


Dreams come slow, and they go so fast

by Samcgrath



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angry Derek, Angry Stiles Stilinski, Angst with a Happy Ending, Derek hates freshmen, Derek's not good with words, Emotional Constipation, Jealous Derek, M/M, Oblivious Derek, Oblivious Stiles, Pining Stiles, Slow Burn, Stiles Is A Freshman, and Stiles hates him because they're both dicks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-03-08 22:34:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 72,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3225974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samcgrath/pseuds/Samcgrath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek is in his last semester at Berkeley and working on his thesis, he doesn't have time for stupid freshmen talking about getting drunk every weekend. Stiles and Scott are just starting college, they're super excited but that grumpy guy who sits behind them in Bio ruins all that excitement by pooping all over their parade and they both hate him with a vengeance. </p><p>But it gets confusing when Stiles realizes that the grump is Derek Hale, the guy who saved him from himself after his mom died years ago. And Derek doesn't know what to do, he hasn't even looked at anyone that way in years but now he can't stop thinking about constellations of moles dotting pale skin. </p><p>Cue, an epic angst-fest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wake me up when it's all over

**Author's Note:**

> Right, so I got this idea because a group of first-years sitting behind me in Biology last semester literally only talked about getting drunk and going clubbing every single class. I'm in my last year and spent every class wondering just what the fuck I was doing in a first-level class. And I can clearly picture Derek thinking the same so here goes..
> 
> PS-The age of drinking in this fic is 19, because that's what it is where I live and it makes things easier for me.

He’s trying to concentrate on the words he’s reading but his mind keeps skipping ahead of his eyes, making him read the same lines over and over. He’d say it’s because he’s tired and hasn’t slept in two days but it’d be a lie.

It’s the thoughts running errant in his head that are making it hard to concentrate. It’s the memories rushing through his consciousness, the ones he’s been suppressing for half a decade now. Memories of a place he left behind years ago, even though it’s still the place he thinks of when he thinks of ‘home.’

Shutting his laptop down, he moves to sit beside the floor-to-ceiling window in his loft. Life is whirring outside, cars fly by on the wet road and people shiver in the below 0 temperature as they walk on sidewalks laden with stale snow. Derek has never liked Winter, with its short days and chilly nights. No, he prefers the Spring when he can sit outside without freezing on the spot and enjoy sunlight till late hours of the day.

The dwindling light outside reminds him that he should make arrangements for tomorrow. He’s returning to school tomorrow, for his last semester at Berkeley. It’s five in the evening but it’s already getting dark out so he supposes now would be a good time to ring his mother for the customary I’m-still-alive Sunday call.

“Der, I was just thinking about calling you!”

“Hey, mom.”

“Did you get through that section of your thesis you were working on?”

He winces internally at that, he hasn’t even made a dent in the editing because he’s been too busy trying not to go under.

“I uh, I’m working on it.”

“I’m sure you’ll do great, Derek. I’m really proud of you for going back to school, I hope you know that. And for deciding to write a thesis, you were always my determined child.”

He tries not to let it get to him – he doesn’t deserve all this praise – but his mom does have a way of making him feel better when he’s doubting himself.

“Thanks, mom.”

“Any time, Der. Now, are you ready for your last semester? It’s almost over now, right?”

“Right.”

“Derek? What’s bothering you, pup?”

He shouldn’t say it, he shouldn’t. She thinks he’s coping better than he is and he should just let her think that.

“It’s just this class I have, Introduction to Biology. It’s a first-year class and with my thesis and all, I won’t have time to worry about some freshmen class!”

“But it shouldn’t be very hard, darling. You’re already in your fourth year, I’m sure you can handle a first year course.”

“Yeah, thanks mom.”

“You’re most welcome, son. And remember, I’m so proud of you for doing this.”

He mumbles a quiet thanks and says goodbye, partly because he doesn’t know how to deal with praise and partly because he wants to brood in a corner (as Laura loves to say) and not talk to his mother about his stupid worries.

He’s reheating the take-out lunch he ordered when his phone chimes with a text. He gingerly picks it up, wary of which one of the ferocious women in his life has decided to grace him with a conversation he’s sure he’s going to regret.

 **6:30 PM from Laura:** Call me if you have time before bed tonight. If not, good luck tomorrow! I know you can get through one class with annoying freshmen, even though they can be very very infuriating

 **6:31 PM from Laura:** Hey, maybe you’ll find a sexy fresher and fall in love, who knows…

 **6:31 PM from Laura:** Or maybe a hot TA--oh boy, that reminds me of that hot TA I had in my first year, that I ended up banging in my last semester, she was something else

 **6:32 PM from Laura:** Hey, maybe last semester is like a good luck charm for the Hales! Keep an eye out for hot TAs, Der-Der..

He frowns down at his phone, it’s just like Laura to comfort him one second and then make him scowl the very next. She’s probably cackling like a maniac with her phone in hand right now, imagining his expression. Well, she wouldn’t be wrong to assume that he’s unhappy, he thinks as he plates the sweet and sour chicken.

Just as he’s about to take the first bite, his phone chimes again and he knows he should check before Laura decides to make his life a living hell by texting every few seconds. He picks up the phone with a crushing grip, anger almost seeping out at the disturbance.

 **6:35 PM from Laura:** Fine, I’ll stop, you’re no fun. Don’t break your phone, you giant mountain of man-pain.

 **6:35 PM from Laura:** Alright, gotta go. You’ve got it, little bro! Ring me if you need anyone maimed and/or killed. May the force be with you!

He picks up the phone when he knows Laura’s not going to text anymore. He’d learned early on that it’s better to let her say everything she wants to say without interrupting because then she’ll expect Derek to answer all her texts and have conversation. So, now he just waits till she’s done before replying very succinctly.

 **6:41 PM to Laura:** Thanks, Laur.

She doesn’t say anything back, Derek knows she’s very busy dealing with her promotion and having to move back from the West Coast. Laura’s always been the ambitious one in the family, the one with goals and dreams that she chased with everything she had.

And she’s the strongest one out of them too, even after all the broken dreams she is the one to stand back up and build something new. Derek wishes he could be like her, fearless but he’d been jaded too early in life to not have fears.

Shaking the morose thoughts aside, he digs into his cold food as Connie Francis sings in the background about lost love. He can do this, he can. It’s just one more semester before he can start research of his own and he won’t need to be around people he doesn’t know.

After washing the dishes and changing into the threadbare t-shirt and sweatpants he wears at night, Derek lays down in his cold bed. He’s had this loft for three years but it still feels cold and impersonal. Laura always says it’s because Derek’s soul is cold and even though she means it as a joke, he’s not so sure it isn’t true.

His phone rings just as he’s about to fall asleep and of course it’s Cora texting him at the worst possible time.

 **8:17 PM from Cora:** bet u wre alrdy in bed u wrdo god u’r sch an old man

He tries not to cringe but it’s very hard after looking at his sister’s poor attempt at making words. He’s really irked by it and that just makes Cora even more reckless, he can tell that by now she’s just shortening every word to irritate him. But, he’s above all that.

 **8:18 PM from Cora:** Brst a vein yt?

His nose flares in annoyance, why does he have sisters sent from hell who love to test his patience every time they converse with him? He must’ve done something really bad in his last attempt at life.

 **8:20 PM from Cora:** k srsly thogh, hv fun tmr  & stay safe

 **8:20 PM from Cora:** pls dnt kill any1, i’ll miss u if u go 2 jail

He almost has a headache by the time she texts him goodnight. Settling against the cold sheets, he wonders what it must be like to feel excited for a new semester at college and not like he’s going into a war bare-handed.

He knows that college is not as big a deal as he’s making it. He also knows that his mom and sisters would not be this worried about him if he hadn’t spent the last two weeks complaining and whining about sharing classes with stupid freshmen and talking about just stabbing himself and be done with it before he goes through that special brand of hell.

Well see, Derek’s not your average college student. He stays quiet because he doesn’t like conversing with people who have an IQ lower than they can count on their fingers. And that describes about 98% of the world, so.

Don’t get him wrong, he’s got friends - like minded friends, who agree with him on the whole ‘conversation with the population at large is futile’. Erica talks the most out of them and that’s only because she likes to play with her prey before killing it. Loves toying with pimply-faced college boys before Boyd shuts it all down with a stern face.

That about sums up Boyd’s contribution - a stern face - to any conversation outside of their little group. And Isaac, well Isaac likes to wear scarves and lounge silently on walls.

So, those are Derek’s friends that he acquired somewhat unwillingly. Erica had barged into his life uninvited in the first year and then refused to leave. Slowly, Boyd and Isaac came too and eventually Derek got tired of telling them to leave.

It was Erica actually who convinced him to register in BIOL 1201, the stupid first-year Bio course he’s taking. He’d needed a science credit and Erica had told him it’s the easiest course, and he’d been stupid enough to believe her.

Now, he’s registered in a course that every stupid freshman with a science major will be in. And he hadn’t even given it much thought till two weeks ago when Erica had started teasing him about attending classes with people his kids’ age.

“There will be 17-year olds there, Derek. What’s that, half your age? You could be their father, Der. Oh my god, you’re the older hot man among a whole new generation. You’ll be their Captain America!”

Great, just great.

He would argue that point, but she’s right. Well, sort of. He’s 27 years old, working on his first degree because he took a detour of five years between high-school and starting at Berkeley. And that detour has defined the rest of his life; he sometimes wonders what his life would’ve been like if he hadn’t have to run away from Beacon Hills, if he hadn’t gone to L.A. and if he’d never met her.

But those are futile thoughts because he did run away and he did meet her and she did ruin him. So, he turns over and pulls the comforter closer to his chest before forcing himself to fall asleep with a head full of thoughts he wishes he could stop.

***

Scott whirls around from where he was hunched over an open suitcase, unpacking his clothes. Stiles hasn’t bothered to unpack, got all semester to do that. Anyway, Scott’s got his face scrunched up like a kid who has just now accidentally eaten a lemon,

“Stiles, will you stop? Please?”

“I’m not saying anything untoward--”

“I can feel my blood pressure rising with every word out of your mouth!”

“You’re too young to have high blood-pressure, Scotty! Should get that checked out whil--”

“Yeah well, I’m sure it wouldn’t be a problem if you just stopped talking about the history of male circumcision!”

“But it’s such an interesting topic, Scott. I mean would you believe that circumcision was practiced in Ancient Egypt and Asia because they thought it was like sympathetic magic to ensure fertility and for hygienic purposes and uh--other purposes , y’know like increasing sexual pleasure? Although, the internet seems to be divided on whether having foreskin actually influences the amount of pleasure a person fee--”

“Stop. Please.”

“--ls. It’s curious stuff, Scott. Aren't you curious? Who woulda thought that chopping a bit of skin off someone’s dick when they were a kid would make them more likely to pleasure a partner in some specific positions and--”

“What? How do you even know that?!”

“Well, I clicked on this link mentioned in this article that outlined a multivariate analysis on what women find sexually attractive in men versus gay men together and they found that women are far more likely to perform orally if--”

“You know what, I don’t need to know. Why the fuck were you reading this in the first place?”

“‘Cuz there’s nothing to do here, Scott. I was bored.”

“So you looked up male circumcision?”

“Well no, I was reading about changes to America’s foreign policy in the last decade and then…”

“Then you ended up reading about dicks?”

“Essentially.”

Scott looks at him like he can’t believe that out of all the sperms, Stiles was the sperm that won and that natural selection hasn’t weeded him out yet. Well, Scott looks at him like that a lot so yeah. The look’s gotten kinda old and lost its value, Stiles is immune to it now. Not that it ever deterred Stiles from looking up things like ‘Do werewolves knot?’

Right.

“I can’t believe you got awarded valedictorian.”

Scott mutters this slowly with his back to Stiles but he hears it.

“Wow, thanks Scott. Don’t hurt yourself with all the praise there.”

And because Scott is the human embodiment of ‘trembling, wet puppy in rain’, he throws the shirt he was folding on the bed and turns around to face Stiles.

Puppy eyes activated.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that, bro. It’s just--you get so out of control sometimes. And I know it’s hard because it’s a new place and you’re not comfortable with change, I get it. But Stiles, we’re at college now. We have to be more responsible. We can’t go around stealing equipment from the Chem lab or or locking people in locker rooms. We have to be--”

He hasn’t even said anything but Scott stops mid-sentence, his face set in a slight frown. Sometimes, Stiles wonders how they’re not actually related. It’s impossible to be on this level of telepathy with someone without sharing blood with them.

“Oh, no, you have that look on your face. You're getting an idea, aren't you?

“Yeah.”

“Is this idea gonna get me in trouble?”

“Maybe.”

“Is this idea gonna cause me physical pain?”

“Yeah, definitely.”

“What is it?”

“We’re going to break into the Bio lab on campus. I read that they have an endangered species of a lizard here in Berkeley.”

Scott looks a mixture of highly terrified, vaguely confused and mildly interested. Stiles counts that as a win.

“And what are we going to do with this lizard?”

“Jackson’s scared of lizards.”

“Stiles...”

“Remember all the times he was a douchebag to us, Scotty. Remember all the times he ratted us out to Harris and got us into detention. Remember all that, Scott.”

Scott nods his head slowly, his eyes fixed on the far wall with a thirty-yard stare as if he’s actually remembering all the times when Jackson Whittemore was a fuckboy, and frankly there’s too many to recall spontaneously. Scott seems to have realised this too because the very next second he straightens up with a crooked smile on his face.

‘That crooked smile actually evens out his uneven jaw a little bit, huh.’ Stiles shakes himself out of his thoughts and pats Scott on his back.

“Alright Scotty, let’s avenge the hell of Beacon Hills High that we went through because of Jackson!”

Scott high-fives him and Stiles knows this is a great plan. Hell, this is the best plan ever.

***

This is the worst plan ever.

It’s one in the morning, the Science building seems dead around them because every freshman and sophomore is drunk in the football field party the Student Association is throwing.

Scott is cowering behind Stiles because he’s the coward side-kick. Stiles, on the other hand, is the brave hero leading them into war. Well, toward the bio labs but yeah, same thing.

“Stiles?”

Scott needs to shut the fuck up because it’s dark in the hallway and Scott’s stupid high-pitched whisper makes Stiles squeal - Captain Rogers would never squeal, but then again pre-serum Steve totally would.

Flailing in place, he shakes off Scott’s hands off his shoulders,

“What??!!”

Scott looks like a chastised puppy and of course he ends up making Stiles feel guilty for lashing out.

“Sorry. What is it, buddy?”

“I don’t know if this is a good idea, Stiles.”

“I think we already established that this was the best idea.”

“But Stiles, I don’t think stealing something before we even begin college is the best plan.”

“Are you turning your back on me, Scotty?”

Stiles stops walking when Scott doesn’t answer.

“Scott?”

“I don’t want to do this, Stiles.”

He’s speaking in his serious no-bullshit voice as opposed to his ‘I-don’t-like-this-but-I’ll-do-it-for-you-Stiles’ voice.

“Have you forgotten that Jackson is a giant fuckboy who ruined the best years of our lives?”

“No, I haven’t but why do we have to fall to his level? And what even is a ‘fuckboy’?”

Stiles huffs in response because how can Scott be his best friend and not know what a fuckboy is, this is an atrocity.

“A ‘fuckboy’, Scott, is a person who doesn’t know shit about anything but insists on giving his opinion on every--”

In the middle of his rant, the loud sound of a door being opened distracts him enough that he doesn’t even see the figure walking down the hallway toward them with a flashlight in hand. Next to him, Scott’s frozen in place with his mouth hanging open.

“Who’s there? This building is closed, who is there??”

Stiles has enough presence of mind to run in the opposite direction, pulling Scott along. The person is following and quickly closing the distance between them, and Stiles is already picturing how to explain being caught trespassing before college even began to his dad.

“Stop! I said, stop!”

Stiles hears it, and it’s probably a good idea to stop and not add fleeing to his list of offences but his self-preservation instincts have never really been up-to-par.

“Scotty, run!”

Just as he’s sure they will be caught, the guy behind them stops calling out and the sound of his feet hitting the ground also stops. On the next turn, Stiles sees a fire exit and rushes out into the dark night.

They don’t stop running till they get to the residence building, loud noises from the party behind them. Even when they’re securely hidden in Scott’s dorm room, the loud noises of drunk people ring around the campus.

Scott has his inhaler pump to his mouth, loudly breathing in and glaring at Stiles at the same time.

“Don’t glare at me, Scotty. I didn’t know there would be a security guy there!”

Scott yanks the pump away, his eyes narrowed in what would be a mean gesture on anyone else but on him, it just looks cute.

“Oh yeah? What happened to ‘I’ve researched everything, Scott. Lab times, building closure and there will be no one there, I promise’?”

He bows his head down in shame because he has let his bro down. He has let himself down. He has let everyone down.

“Hey Stiles, it’s ok. We got away, right?”

This is why Scott is his best friend, he is so good at forgetting and forgiving. And that’s kind of an essential skill to have to be close to Stiles.

So, they go to bed with anticipation tingling in their bones. Tomorrow is the first day of college and Stiles is beyond excited.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, should I continue? Anyone interested in more?


	2. Here's to new beginnings!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, folks!

The sun is shining bright through the clouds but it’s still a chilly day, the cold air feels like it’s cutting through his skin and seeping right into his bones as he runs his third lap around the campus.

 

Most of Berkeley is still waking up but Derek’s always been an early riser. The basketball shorts are sticking to his thighs with sweat but he’s not going to stop till he completes his fourth lap, this is his own personal kind of revenge on himself - the way the muscles in his legs protest - so he keeps going.

 

The snow’s still melting under the sunshine and the world is starting to wake up by the time he jogs over to his loft. The building seems dead with no one coming or going, but then that’s why he had bought the loft here so he didn’t have to see over-familiar neighbours and smile at their kids every time he left his house.

 

Even before he opens the door he knows Erica is here.

 

“I gave you a key in case you want to come study here when the library is busy.”

 

Erica just grins at him in response, the kind with narrow eyes and sharp teeth that scares the crap out of him honestly. Maybe because he’s witnessed her completely annihilating boys with that grin on her face or maybe because he still has a little bit of self-preservation instinct left in him.

 

“Don’t be like that, Der. I just came to see if you were ready to face the children of tomorrow and share the powerful common thread of knowledge with them?”

 

“Fuck off.”

 

He scowls at her but the handfuls of kale and bananas he’s taking out of the fridge are probably what make throw her head back and laugh at him.

 

“You look like a white suburban mom ready to fight someone over the last bag of organic farm-grown kale.”

 

Seeing as how it’s useless trying to argue with Erica, he turns around and dumps the kale into the blender. She can say whatever she wants, Derek is not going to let this stupid class ruin the rest of his time at Berkley or his thesis.

 

He’s blocking her out, busy peeling the bananas as she saunters her way into the kitchen and deposits herself right next to him. God, Derek wishes she knew when to quit.

 

“I’m sorry I called you a suburban mom, Der-Der. But I don’t get why you’re so defensive about this class. I mean, you’re getting a perfect chance to shape the kids of tomorrow, our future is in your han--”

 

He starts the blender and the whirring noise cuts off whatever she was saying. He’s not proud of his childish antics but Erica really brings out the worst in him.

 

“OKAY FINE, BE LIKE THAT!”

 

She walks away toward the bathroom leaving him in peace, and if he’s hiding a small smile in his arm with his hand holding the top of the blender in place, well he never claimed to be an adult. That was a label people forced on him because of his age. They never stopped to ask if he feels in control like an adult should.

 

***

  
“I hate this job.”

 

The cafe is abuzz around them, majority of the student population going in and out with large coffees in their hands, braving the first day. Erica, Isaac, Boyd and Derek are sitting in their usual booth, catching up about their classes.

 

Boyd is complaining about his job. Again. He’s been working at the university’s security desk for three years, and he’s been complaining about it for two years, eleven months and three weeks.

 

“Some stupid kids broke into the Science Building last night. At one in the morning. One day before semester starts.”

 

“Aww, poor baby. If I find them, I’ll break their fucking necks.”

 

As much as they pretend that Erica is joking when she says such things, they all know that she’s not and hope that she won’t do good on her threats one of these days. Isaac is looking scandalized when he shares a look with Derek just as Erica tries to suck Boyd’s soul out of his mouth.

 

“Hey Boyd, why don’t you quit, man? You found a new thing with the lacrosse team, didn’t you?”

 

Erica looks like she’s going to snap Isaac’s neck for interrupting them, but they’ve all been around each other enough to know they wouldn’t hurt each other, under any circumstance.

 

“Yeah, I’m starting for the lacrosse coach this weekend but I still need the Security thing. Not sure if I’ll be able to leave till I graduate.”

 

The conversation dies down after they’ve all taken turns crying about their shitty lives. They’re just sitting around with their drinks gone cold when the alarm on Derek’s phone goes off.

 

**2:15 PM - BIO CLASS**

 

He flares his nose at the screen as his ‘friends’ laugh at him. Fucking traitors.

 

He doesn’t say anything as he gathers his stuff to go. It’s okay, just one fucking class.

 

“Good luck, Cap!”

 

He growls at Erica before he remembers they’re in public and people are staring at him wide-eyed, so he rushes out and makes his way toward the Science Building.

 

“I can do this”, he tells himself.

 

He’s got a terrible habit of lying to himself.

 

***

  
Stiles can hear an annoying sound coming from somewhere, it keeps getting louder and louder the more he tries to block it out. Godammit, he’s trying to sleep here.

 

“Stiles?”

 

“Mmmhhmn.”

 

Someone’s poking his side but he’s helping Captain America and Black Widow in an Apple store so whoever is poking him can wait.

 

“Stiles?”

 

He kicks whoever is shaking his arm because he’s busy, dude. Captain fucking America needs his help.

 

“Stiles, we’re going to be late!”

 

Oh, it’s Scott.

 

“Captain America, Scott”, he mumbles as Black Widow asks him if he knows how fast a werewolf can run if he’s been shot with a silver bullet. Huh, weird question, he thinks as Scott shakes him once again,

 

“Stiles, you said you were going to shower before classes today.”

 

“Shower, hmmmmhm.”

 

He feels someone settling into bed next to him before a pillow lands on his face. He tries to move away but the thing is, Stiles can only breathe through his mouth when he sleeps so Scott’s idea of covering his face with a pillow works, and just like every other time and he sits up in bed panting and super-awake all of a sudden.

 

“Bathroom’s free, you should hurry though.”

 

And with that, Stiles is up. In his shitty dorm room with Scott walking about already dressed and a full day of classes ahead of him. Man, he was having the best dream ever.

 

***

 

He’s telling Scott about his dream with Black Widow and Captain America as they walk out of their first class at Berkeley - Introduction to Literature.

 

Stiles was really surprised when the professor turned out to be a twenty-something woman who told them they have to write two papers in this term and they can be about a song and a poem of their choice.

 

Honestly, Stiles had thought she was joking because Ms. Blake had always given them what books to read and was very insistent about what she wanted them to write. So far, college is really different because they aren’t being forced to do things they had no interest in. Stiles is loving it so far.

 

They start walking to their next class with a campus map in hand as people around them talk in loud voices, someone’s yelling somewhere and Stiles is pretty sure he saw two guys waltzing near the football field just now.

 

“So then she turned around and asked me the weirdest question. With a straight face, she goes ‘How fast can a werewolf go with a silver bullet in his chest?’”

 

Scott is looking at him with wide eyes and a crooked smile - his trademark ‘I’m so interested in what you’re saying, Stiles’ look.

 

“And you know the weirdest part?”

 

Scott shakes his head like an interested child, Stiles misses his floppy hair that he’d gotten cut to get a new college hairstyle. Just as Stiles is about to tell Scott, someone pushes him from behind and before he even knows what’s happening, they’re both being pushed into the hallway ahead of them.

 

Stiles can hardly even see Scott in the sea of people around them but he keeps walking anyway because the class starts in ten minutes.

 

Stiles thinks he just saw someone wearing a cape but he can’t even turn around to look because he’s in the middle of a fucking stampede in the hallway of the Homburg building.

 

His breath is coming in raggedly when he finally makes it to the other end of the building. He’s not sure he can survive this madness every day, he’ll be having panic attacks by the weekend because so many people walking in random directions through a narrow hallway is not ideal.

 

Scott finds him leaning against the wall trying to breathe evenly and like the best friend that he is, he runs a soothing hand down his back,

 

“Just breathe, Stiles. You’re fine.”

 

He’s off the wall in less than a minute when he’s got enough air in his lungs.

 

“That was scary, man. I couldn’t even see you, Stiles, and I was calling out your name all worried but then this girl pulled me aside just when I was about to walk into a pole.”

 

“What girl?”

 

“I don’t know, some blonde girl. She had a scary smile.”

 

They’re rushing toward the staircase because their class is starting right now and Stiles doesn’t want to be late on the first day but they’re definitely going to be.

 

It’s a wonder that they find the right room because obviously it’s the room tucked into the far corner that they walked right past twice before someone pointed them toward it.

 

“Of course, it’s the one in the fucking corner.”

 

When they finally enter, all hundred people inside including the professor turn around and look at them. Of course, this room is a huge theater-style class. Stiles feels his chest tighten as he registers all the eyes pointed at them, the professor has stopped talking and is staring at them with raised eyebrows too.

 

Stiles has the presence of mind to pull on Scott’s sleeve and drag him into the first pair of empty seats he can see in one of the middle rows. As Stiles takes off his bag and starts to make his way across the row to get to the seats, some people look at them with frowning faces but most people look like they don’t care.

 

He mumbles a lot of ‘sorry’ and ‘excuse me’s and bumps into a lot of legs because his balance is questionable on most days. Scott behind him is obviously not stepping on any toes or almost kissing the floor.

 

He actually sighs with relief when he finally sits down in the seat, his bag in his lap as the professor drones on about how the labs are scheduled for this class.

 

“You will have to attend every lab.”

 

A wave of groans fills the room, this is very different than the groaning in high school when Harris used to scowl them all into silence. No, here the professor is standing quietly to the side and letting them groan.

 

“Now that you’re all done whining, yes. You have to attend lab every time one is scheduled. Otherwise, you will receive a grade of zero on that lab. And every single lab is worth 10% of your final grade.”

 

That makes everyone groan even more and honestly, Stiles is really enjoying this unity thing this class has going on. The professor just ignores them as he changes through powerpoint slides while they all whine and moan.

 

Sometime in the middle of the mini-lecture the professor is giving, Scott pulls on his sleeve. 

 

“You didn’t tell me the weirdest thing about your dream”, he whispers slowly. Stiles thinks he hears someone growl but he’s sure that’s just his over-imaginative brain making things up.

 

“So she asked me about the silver bullet hit wolf thing, right? And I told her and I quote, ‘Silver bullets don’t hurt werewolves, but a were hit with a wolfsbane bullet could still go a few miles before he goes down.’”

 

Okay, someone is definitely growling around them, Stiles can hear it clearly. He even looks around but finds everyone either looking at the slides or their phones.

 

Scott’s voice pulls back his attention, “That is weird.”

 

“I know, dude! I think I stared at her for a good minute after I said that.”

 

“Stiles, what is wolfsbane?”

 

Stiles is about to answer when a small movement out of the corner of his eye makes him stop. The guy in front of them seems to be very disturbed by their hushed conversation because he has just let out the loudest sigh Stiles has ever heard in his life. Scott, as usual, doesn’t notice.

 

“Stiles?”

 

He tears his eyes away from the dark-haired head and faces Scott.

 

“It’s poison to werewolves basically, according to French mythology. It’s a flower and there are different species of it but most of them are deadly to werewolves but some of them have other functions like hallucinogenic and even healing properties.”

 

Scott looks at him with a very confused expression, and Stiles knows - he knows - that whatever comes next is going to be very, very special. A small part of him wants the grumpy and downright rude fuckboy sitting in front of them to hear it, just so he can get more irritated.

 

“But Stiles, werewolves are not _actually real_ , right?”

 

He laughs on the inside because yes, grumpy and downright rude fuckboy does sigh loudly again, this time even moves his head around in a gesture that Stiles knows means he’s rolling his eyes. Well, gear on motherfucker, Stiles thinks.

 

“They could be, Scotty. Could be.”

 

Scott’s eyebrows do a weird dance as he processes this new information. Stiles finds himself looking at GDRF’s dark head again. Maybe, he’s dragging this conversation out just to spite the guy, maybe. No one can prove anything.

 

And it’s not like anyone else is getting disturbed because of their talking, as far as he can tell the two people to his right are both on yik-yak on their phones and the girl next to Scott is drawing a very detailed dragon in her notebook. Pretty much everyone else seems to be on facebook or twitter on their laptops. So they’re definitely not disturbing anyone, except GDRF.

 

“You’re just messing with me, right? I mean we’d know if they were real, we would--”

 

“There’s a shit ton of mythology about them, Scott. Could be real, y’know. And they wouldn’t be the most far-fetched supernatural fantasy, either.”

 

“Do _you_ believe that they’re real?”

 

Stiles takes a second to answer. He knows that GDRF is listening to their conversation because he’s leaning back in his seat and Stiles is not sure he wants to advertise his views on supernatural creatures to people he doesn’t even know.

 

“I do, yeah. I mean the lore is too extensive to be myth. You remember when I asked Allison about her family’s heritage junior year?”

 

Scott’s face does the customary _‘Allison, oh yeah, she’s a person. She’s my girlfriend. She’s perfect.’_ ritual. Stiles gives him a minute to come back to the present, he’s had enough encounters with Scott and he’s learned his lessons about those two.

 

“Yeah, I remember. You said something about some French myths.”

 

“Yeah, Allison’s grandfather used to keep a bestiary. I asked her if I could keep it after he passed away. It was written in Latin though and that’s why I had to go shopping with Lydia for all of senior year and carry her bags. ‘Cuz she translated the bestiary for me.”

 

Scott is processing information, his face is the human equivalent of the buffering symbol. While his best friend finishes processing, Stiles looks at GDRF out of the corner of his eye and finds tightly-drawn shoulders as if the guy is barely holding back from turning around and saying something.

 

“Stiles, I think you mean ‘bestiality’.”

 

He whips his head around to stare open-mouthed at his best friend because no, that’s not what he meant. Also, that’s exactly what Allison had said when he’d asked her about the bestiary. And Stiles does not want to know anything about what his best friend and his girlfriend do in their spare time, no thank you.

 

While he’s still formulating a reply in his mind, GDRF makes another sound of disapproval. This one is louder and sounds more ‘done with everything’ and Stiles is about to call him out on it when people around them start shuffling and getting out of their seats.

 

Stiles is still struggling to respond to Scott, the guy in front of them is already gone and Scott is looking at him with a lopsided grin,

 

“No Scott, I mean bestiary and I don’t want to know what goes in your or Allison’s mind!”

 

They’ve only had two classes today and Stiles is already tired. He just wants to sleep and dream about Cap and his perfect dorito body.

 

Apparently he said that out loud because Scott looks confused while a girl packing up in the row behind them grins at him and whispers,

 

“That shoulder to waist ratio is perfect!”

 

Stiles loves college.

 

***

  
“I fucking hate college.”

 

Erica sits down in the chair next to his with a loud sigh.

 

“Oh come on, Derek, it’s your last semester. And then you won’t have to come back to this hell-hole ever.”

 

He’s really irked by the way she’s unwrapping her lunch on top of important papers he’s got scattered on the lab table but he really doesn’t want to stand up and start cleaning.

 

He can’t figure out what this stupid twentieth-century writer is saying and that’s putting a wrench in the rest of his thesis being completed so the last thing he wants is a distraction.

 

“It’s not that. It’s the stupid bio class you made me take!”

 

Erica speaks with a mouthful and he would be so irritated by that if he wasn’t already climbing the fucking walls because of the stupid freshmen in class today.

 

“Well, I _made you take it_ because you needed a science credit. And because I thought maybe if you were around young’uns that you’d lighten up a bit.”

 

“Lighten up? Are you fucking kidding me, Erica? I sat in front of two teenagers today who spent the entire class discussing werewolves. Fucking werewolves!”

 

“Werewolves? Is that a new meme?”

 

“A what?”

 

“You’re so technologically challenged, Derek. A meme--”

 

“Forget it.”

 

He tries to go back to his reading but obviously Erica is like a dog with a bone so it's futile to avoid her.

 

“So what were they saying?”

 

“One of them wanted to know if werewolves are real or not. And the other one seemed to go on and on about myths and lore. He talked too fast and way too much.”

 

“Oh god, I bet you gave him a piece of your mind! Go on, tell me how you made him cry.”

 

He looks up from his paper and pins her with a quiet look. She just raises her eyebrows and looks on interestedly,

 

“I didn’t.”

 

Her mouth falls open in surprise. Erica is never surprised.

 

“Are you telling me that someone was talking about fucking werewolves in between the lecture right behind you and you didn’t make them weep? Is that what you’re telling me?”

 

He keeps his eyes focused on the thin font of the research paper he’s reading. He can feel Erica’s eyes on him, can feel the heat behind her stare but he doesn’t look up. She’s undoubtedly coming up with something stupid--

 

“Was one of them cute? Oh my god, did you fall for a freshman?”

 

And there it is.

 

Derek has to look up at that. Because if she gets the wrong idea, Laura’s going to know about her ideas before Derek can even say ‘no’ and nope, he’d rather not open that can of worms.

 

“No. I was trying to control myself.”

 

She gets a thoughtful look on her face and Derek can swear he saw her eyes shining there for a second,

 

“Why? Because one of them was cute?”

 

He sighs exasperatedly, some days he wishes the women in his life weren’t so invested in his personal and his non-existent love life. Well, every day really.

 

“I don’t know because I didn’t see them. I was controlling because it was the first day.”

 

“So? That never stopped you before. Are you going soft in your old age, Der? I mean you’ve made freshmen cry for far less. Are you the same Derek who yelled at a junior last year because he hadn’t turned his phone off during class and he got an email?”

 

He looks away because she’s right. That had been a much smaller disturbance than the guys today. He could even feel eyes on him today, and that had made him tense up even more.

 

Erica is right, that junior he’d yelled at last year had just gotten one email in the middle of class and his phone had made a small ‘ting’ sound and Derek had absolutely lost it. Compared to that, today was a disaster. The stupid kid behind him had gone on and on, Derek was gripping the hand rest on his chair for half the class and clenching his fist for the rest. If this had happened last year, he’d have turned around and ripped the kid a new one.

 

“Oh my god, _you_ _are going soft!_ ”

 

He just huffs in response and goes back to his research paper. Except now he can’t concentrate because he can’t stop thinking about that stupid kid’s voice in his head. Why didn’t he just turn around and glare at him? Derek knows his eyebrows are scary for people, why didn’t he just turn around and make the kid shut up?

 

He’s lost in his thoughts when Erica jostles his arm. She’s standing next to him with her bag in hand and ready to leave, 

 

“Don’t glare at the paper, Der. You can reign terror on the freshmen next class! I gotta run for work, see you at dinner.”

 

The lab is dead quiet after she slams the door shut. Derek loves the peace here, that’s why he had especially requested this lab for his thesis research. It’s out of the way of the first-year labs and no one disturbs him here except Erica who disturbs him anywhere he is, to be honest.

 

His paper is staring back at him and he knows he should be reading but the things Erica said are distracting him and he can't read. Well, more like any distraction away from his research is a good distraction.

 

“Fuckin werewolves”, he mutters before packing up his papers and leaving the lab to walk to his loft. He knows he won’t be able to concentrate today, might as well give up before he gets anymore irritated.

 

Derek hates college.

 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, the currency I accept for writing more is comments. Go on, then!


	3. Nevermind, then..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there, it is I, the jackass author who only appears once in a month with new chapters!

 

He’s not even sure how he got roped into this but every Monday and Wednesday, Erica shows up with Boyd and Isaac in tow and starts wreaking havoc in his kitchen before he loses his cool and takes over. Erica huffs and whines a little at being kicked out of the kitchen like getting Derek to cook wasn’t her plan all along.

 

They’re all seated on the giant couch he has in the loft looking at him with pleading eyes. He has been tricked by this exact picture of innocence countless times and he’s an idiot who keeps falling for it over and over. Isaac’s topaz blue eyes staring at him through his stupid curls are piercing through Derek’s will - he is so weak.

 

“Fine.”

 

He huffs and walks away toward the kitchen, not paying any attention to the cheering and hurraying going on behind him. Today, they’ve convinced him to make them tacos. It’s not hard to make tacos, to be honest but it’s the constant interruption that he has to live through because even though the three of them have been banned from entering the kitchen while he’s cooking, they’re sitting on the barstools all looking at him with creepily matching stares. Derek feels like a mother feeding his impatient kids.

 

“Doesn’t he absolutely rock that apron?”

 

“More than I’ve ever seen anyone rocking an apron.”

 

“I wanna buy him one of those ‘kiss the cook’ ones.”

 

“Ew, why would you say that, Rica? He doesn’t need an apron that say--”

 

He’s so done with all of them. So fucking done.

 

“ _He_ is right here.”

 

Erica and Isaac both stop staring each other down and turn to stare at him instead, why is he friends with these people again?

 

“Yes, we know, Derek. You’re feeding hungry, broke college students. You’re a god. And I feel like buying you a present so I--”

 

“If it’s an apron, Erica, I will burn it in front of you.”

 

She’s glaring at him like she expected anything less from him,

 

“Ouch! Could you be a bit more hurtful?”

 

“I don’t know, could you be a bit more annoying?”

 

Boyd gets up and walks away before he has to step in and separate them from tearing at each other’s throats.

 

“Why is it that you find everyone annoying these days, Derek? I mean you’ve never been the friendliest guy but this is getting a bit too much.”

 

He should’ve known that she’ll bring it up. Erica is nothing if not good at picking at things Derek doesn’t want picked.

 

“What’re you talking about, Erica?”

 

Derek whips his head around to stare at Isaac, who is looking at him like a lost puppy so of course Derek sighs and walks away before he hits one of them.

 

“I’m glad you asked, Isaac. Captain America here, sat in front of awesome freshmen tod--”

 

“They were not awesome.”

 

“-ay. They were talking about werewolves in the middle of Bio and Derek, of course, was busy rolling his eyes the entire time.”

 

He’s not listening to her stupid commentary, he’s got his back to the pair of them as he puts the tacos into the oven and he is so not listening to her.

 

“Werewolves?”

 

“I know, right? If it was me, I’d have turned around and joined in.”

 

He’s seconds away from growling at them but that’d only make Erica more determined to annoy him.

 

“Werewolves, that’s weird.”

 

“Oh come on, Isaac, would you rather they talk about getting drunk and fucking their way through the entire population of Berkeley?”

 

Isaac winces and Derek can relate with him, he can but he’s staying as far away from this conversation as he physically can.

 

“No, werewolves is good.”

 

“Oh speaking of dogs, I saw the cutest freshman today.”

 

Boyd saunters back into the living room, looking aloof for all intents and purposes but Derek knows he’s still a bit insecure when it comes to his relationship with Erica.

 

“So I’m walking to class in McNally through Homburg and the hallway was crawling with freshmen as usual and I was standing on the side to let the peasants leave when I see this ray of sunshine. He was about to be pushed through the crowd so I pulled him aside and he was so cute!”

 

Derek subconsciously shifts closer to Boyd but Erica doesn’t seem to be paying them any attention, still busy regaling the tales of this human puppy.

 

“He had the puppiest puppy eyes I’ve ever seen and I’ve lived with you, Isaac.”

 

Now Derek’s a little interested in who she’s talking about. No one out-puppies Isaac.

 

“I’m not lying, don’t look at me like that. Also, he had an uneven jaw so when he smiled it was all crooked and just--yeah.”

 

No one says anything and they settle down with plates full of steaming tacos. Derek’s not even paying anyone any attention, his eyes glued to the huge screen of the TV they’d forced him to buy last year. It’s an old episode of Cold Case and he knows the secret boyfriend is the killer but he’s never been able to sit in front of a TV and not be lost to the world which is why Erica screeching his name startles him,

 

“Derek?!”

 

“What?”

 

“I said something.” 

 

“Clearly, I wasn’t listening.”

 

He knows he can be bitchy - _yeah, try being a bitch all the time and having a resting bitch face, lil bro_ \- and lash out when he doesn’t mean to but this whole day has been a disaster from start to end and he just wants to enjoy watching a stupid police procedural show. Erica’s been getting on his nerves all day and usually Derek’s quite good at keeping the three of them in line but maybe he’s letting them become a little too familiar. And of course, Erica’s looking at him with wide eyes and her lower lip is trembling, of course he’s made her cry. Godammit, this is why he shouldn’t be around people.

 

“Alright?”

 

She looks away to her plate without a word, Derek knows he went too far maybe but if he apologizes then she’ll take it to mean that he’s okay with all the invasion of privacy that’s been happening lately. So, he stays put and turn back to the TV.

 

“You were saying?”

 

And just like he thought, that’s enough to reel her back in.

 

“I was saying that you did good today. By being nice to the freshmen, I mean. I only wanted you to take that class so you could have an easy one with all your other 4000 levels. Plus, being around people who don’t care about their future just yet was my way of making sure you weren’t always moping about, brooding in dark corners--”

 

“I don’t mope about.”

 

A very derisive snort from Isaac makes him snap his head around to stare the boy down. He’s older than all of them, dammit. And he deserves respect, not being snorted at by some twenty-year old kid who wears scarves in the Summer.

 

“No, Isaac, let’s address this like adults.”, Erica says with a mean edge to her voice as she keeps her eyes fixed on Derek like an eagle staring down prey. 

 

He so doesn’t want to know what she means by that. Maybe, he should just throw them all out for tonight. Actually, that’s a great idea, he shoul--

 

“You think you don’t mope? All you’ve done for the three years we’ve known you, Derek, is mope. That’s why you’re always angry, always glaring at the smallest semblance of happiness for anyone.”

 

Okay, so he’s heard this exact lecture from Laura multiple times but that doesn’t prove that either of them are right in calling him a brooding asshole. They’re wrong.

 

“I’m sure you think I’m wrong, bite me. All I’m going to say is, give it a chance. Not making people cry, I mean, give it an honest-to-god chance. Maybe you’ll even make more friends.”

 

More friends. Ugh.

 

“Don’t make that face. Grow up, will you?”

 

He just winks at her and turns back toward the TV, she’ll be fine, he thinks. They’ll all be fine.

 

***

 

Bringing their shared xbox to college was probably the best decision they’ve ever made. Stiles is so glad that they can just hang out in Scott’s dorm style room in pajamas and play COD till they’re starving and then run to the meal hall. College is awesome.

 

They haven’t met a lot of people, just casual waves to familiar faces from class but no actual introductions. One of the people they have met is Scott’s RA, he’s a pretty cool guy doing his Master’s program and that’s something Stiles never would’ve guessed when he first saw Jordan Parrish; the guy doesn’t look a day older than 19.

 

Anyway, he told Stiles and Scott about a party being thrown by the Student Association at the end of the month and that they’re both invited. They part in the hallway right outside Stiles and Scott’s next class.

 

“He seems like a nice guy.”

 

“Scott, everyone seems like a nice guy to you.”

 

“You didn’t think he was nice?”

 

“I did.”

 

“Then what’s wrong, Stiles?”

 

They sit at the back of the class, this one is much smaller and looks more like the classes at Beacon Hills High. But the people here don’t look at him like they’re going to make fun of him behind his back. He even spots a few familiar faces from yesterday’s classes.

 

“Stiles, what is it?”

 

“Nothing, I’m just thinking of how we took the same classes so we haven’t talked to anyone else. How are we going to make more friends, Scott? Not that I don’t love being in class with you, I do but I mean, people make new friends at college, Scott. And you’re all super friendly but I'm 147 pounds of pale skin and fragile bones. Sarcasm is my only defense! How will I make friends, Scotty? Who will want to talk--”

 

“Anyone will, Stiles. You’re so smart and you’re funny, and you’re nice wh--”

 

“I didn’t realize we were discussing matrimonial ads. ‘Funny, smart, hyperactive spas looking for his other half and a friend because he can’t make any on his own.’”

 

“You know that’s not true. Plus, once the others get here you won’t feel like this. Till then, you’ve got me!”

 

Scott does this stupid jazz hands things and Stiles can only smile in return, obviously they’re the best bros in the world. He loves being around Scott but he can’t wait till Lydia and everyone else comes this weekend. Even Jackson, Stiles admits with a sigh. Even that asshole.

 

***

 

His Tuesday/Thursday schedule looks much more sparse than Monday/Wednesday. The two classes he and Scott share are just easy electives, they don’t even have to attend every class. Stiles is already having ideas about skipping the ones where they don’t have to turn anything in.

 

“Hey Stiles, I was thinking of looking for a job. I mean, I don’t know if there will be anything available so late but I’m gonna try. Going around to the Employment Centre and see if they have anything.”

 

He gives it a thought, he’s got extra time on his hands too and if he can earn some money from it, why not.

 

“Hey Scotty, d’you mind if I come along? I figure I should try to look, at least.”

 

Scott just nods at him and off they go. Looking for a job. If only his dad could see him now, growing up and doing adult things. Adulting. Oh yeah, Stiles has got this.

 

***

 

“You know what job you want to apply for?”

 

“No.”

 

“Do you want to apply right now?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Do you have a Resume?”

 

“Uh, not right now, no.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Stiles can recognise the look of utter doneness when he sees it. This girl is definitely done with him. But, she’s the only one here attending to him seeing as how Scott got to walk away with the disney-princess guy who was here with the girl. So Stiles needs to play nice and smile in all the right places.

 

“Okay, then.”

 

The girl ducks behind the counter and comes out from the side, she is every bit as confident and beautiful as Stiles had expected from her perfect hair and makeup. Lydia is the only person he’s ever seen wear heels as high as hers and not look like she’s dying inside. This girl is just as fiercely beautiful as Lydia is.

 

“My eyes are up here, Batman.”

 

He starts at her voice because yes he was looking in the general direction of her while thinking and now he’s looking like a pervert. Great, good first impression.

 

“I wasn’t--um--I didn’t, it’s not--”

 

“Relax, I was just teasing.”

 

He does a weird word vomit thing where no words come out instead nonsense noises fall out of his mouth. The girl looks like she’s having the time of her life.

 

“You know what you're doing right now that's kind of funny? You're only looking in my eyes.”

 

“That’s funny?”

 

“Well, yeah. Because it's that kind of look where you're trying not to look anywhere other than my eyes, but you want to, don't you? You want a nice, long, hard--look.”

 

“Not really. No."

 

“Oh. So it's just my eyes?"

 

“You just have beautiful eyes.”

 

“I have beautiful everything.”

 

“Yes, you do. Which even I, a dude who is almost religiously into dick, can see and attest to.”

 

At this, the girl tilts her head to the side and looks at him like she’s considering something very serious.

 

“Hmmm.”

 

He’s left scampering after her as she walks away leaving him following in her wake. When he finally approaches her, she’s standing in front of a huge bulletin board with job postings all over it.

 

“So here’s everything we have open right now, what did you say your name was?”

 

“I didn’t.”

 

He’s too busy looking at the jobs postings to respond to her glare that’s intense enough that he can feel the side of his face heating up.

 

“Sharp tongue, Batman.”

 

“Well, when you look like me and the world is full of assholes, you gotta have one.”

 

“Alright, I’ll give that one to you. I’m Erica, by the way.”

 

“Stiles.”

 

“Stiles?”

 

“My name, it’s Stiles.”

 

“Your parents named you _that_?”

 

They both turn around to find Scott and the disney-curls guy standing in the doorway. As much as Stiles wants to be friendly and make new friends, he is not a fan of virtual strangers poking fun at him or his admittedly-weird name.

 

“No, but if you tried to pronounce what they actually named me, you’d turn fifty just standing there.”

 

The girl next to him, Erica, snorts at his not very friendly answer. 

 

“Aren’t you the nicest person around? No skills, no job experience and certainly no social skills. Not sure how you can find a job here.”

 

He sees Erica moving from the corner of his eye, her stance very defensive and he’d take a minute to appreciate how she’s coming to his defence just minutes after meeting him but he can’t be bothered right now.

 

“You work in customer service? Seriously? With _that_ attitude?”

 

Scott doesn’t look very happy right now and Erica is certainly standing in a posture like she expects Stiles and this douchebag to jump each other’s throats any second. Well, Stiles can’t promise that he won’t lunge for the guy if he doesn’t stop making fun of him.

 

“At least I work, but seeing as how you’re pretty much unemployable, you should just leave h--”

 

“Isaac!”

 

They all turn to stare at Erica, she just yelled at her co-worker and it was probably loud enough to be heard four floors down.

 

The guy in question looks a little sheepish but then the very next second he’s glaring at Stiles again. Okay, gonna have to end this once and for all. He turns toward Erica with the calmest face and points to Isaac - the douche,

 

“What is the point of him? I mean seriously, what is his purpose, aside from his negativity and the scarf. What's up with the scarf, anyway? It's like 65 degrees out.”

 

Erica bursts out laughing - she’s laughing, okay that’s not what he was expecting from her after he’s just insulted her friend. He looks around to confirm that he’s not out of his mind yet and that Scott and the Isaac guy also agree that her reaction is odd. Scott’s trying to stifle a laugh in his hand while Isaac is seething silently, his eyes boring holes through Stiles’s face. It’s Erica’s loud exclamation that startles everyone,

 

“I can’t believe you just said that! You're so like him.”

 

He almost asks her what she means, who is he like but he's pretty sure he can hear growling (it reminds him of GDRF from bio class but that’s a thought best left unaddressed) but Erica’s smiling face is making anything else irrelevant right now. Not because she looks amazing with confidence oozing out of her every pore - which she does - but because her smile reminds him of someone else’s.

 

_Lydia’s._

 

More importantly, Lydia’s ‘I’ve just realised something and you’re going to regret whatever it is’ smile. So yeah, to say that he’s worried is an understatement. Fierce women who will stop at nothing are his biggest weakness and his biggest threat.

 

“Stiles?” 

 

Yup, there’s that saccharine voice Lydia also uses when she wants him to do something. Stiles calls it the _‘Your queen wants something, won’t you do it, Stiles?_ ’ voice.

 

“Ye--yes?”

 

Her smiles widens into a grin, sharp white teeth on rosy red lips look like the most dangerous weapon he’s ever seen. And he’s been practicing at the shooting range since he was fourteen.

 

“You want to work on-campus, right?”

 

Okay, this is seriously freaking him out. He thought she was going to ask him to kill Isaac or start dealing drugs or something but instead she asks a totally normal question with that psychopath grin on her face. Right, she’s dragging it out. Brace yourself, Stiles.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Are you asking me?”

 

There it is, the powerful goddess making him feel like the lowly peasant he is in front of her.

 

“No? I mean, I’m not asking you. But yeah, I’d like to work on campus.”

 

“How about in a lab?”

 

Before he has even fully processed the question, Isaac is walking toward them with hard-set eyes and a clenched jaw. He takes her elbow forcefully and turns her around to whisper something in her ear but he’s loud enough that Stiles can clearly hear him,

 

“Erica, don’t you dare--”

 

She pulls her arm out of his grip and hisses in Isaac’s face, “I know what I’m doing.” 

 

Stiles feels so out of place, like he’s intruding on a private conversation. He doesn’t want to get between the two of them so he slowly starts shifting toward Scott. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, after all.

 

“Well? Do you want to work in a lab?” 

 

He stops right where he is, eyes wide in shock as Erica stares at him with raised eyebrows and behind her Isaac looks like he’s going to punch Stiles if he says yes. Which is 96% of the reason why he says,

 

“Yes.”

 

There’s that predatory grin again, he’s definitely reconsidering what he's said. 

 

“Great. I manage the Bio lab on the third floor and I need someone to help me a few days of the week. You up for it?”

 

“Erica, you know he’s going to be pissed at you--”

 

“Isaac, don’t you have to help the puppy with his applications?”

 

The boy looks conflicted but after a silent conversation between Erica and him, he nods at Scott and they walk toward the desk on the other side of the room. Apparently, Scott is eligible to apply for jobs.

 

_‘Well, he did work all through high-school, Stiles, while you were busy looking for dead bodies in the woods and giving me heart-attacks’,_  his dad’s voice points out. And okay, fair point.

 

“So where were we?”

 

“You were saying about helping you with a lab.”

 

“Oh yeah, there’s a catch though.”

 

Of course, there is.

 

“Which is?”

 

“There’s a student who’s working on his thesis right now, he uses the lab regularly. Other than him, it’s not used much because undergrads don’t have access to it. But anyway, this guy, he’s my friend.”

 

“How is that a catch?”

 

“Well you’d say it is a catch if you knew him. He’s not the friendliest person in the world. And a part of helping me with the lab is keeping a record of the supplies we have there, which will require you to be present in the lab at least twice a week. Some of those times will overlap with him being there.”

 

“Right. So, the guy’s not the nicest person, okay. Why is that a--”

 

“Because he’s the biggest asshole you’ll ever meet.”

 

Stiles starts a little at her words, people tend to speak very positively of their friends most of the time but here she is completely blasting the guy. And this is a job she offered Stiles without him asking so what even.

 

“Bit harsh for a friend, isn’t it?” 

 

“Not really, no. He is an asshole and on top of it he’s a grumpy, possessive asshole who won’t like it if he has to share his precious lab.”

 

“Does he own it?”

 

“The lab? No.”

 

“So then, it’s not his. It’s a school resource which he’s paying for as much as anyone else.”

 

She does her head tilting thing again, and looks at Stiles like she’s analysing every word out of his mouth which makes him really nervous. Maybe he shouldn’t badmouth people in front of their friends even if said friends badmouthed the people first,

 

“Good point, but it’s going to take a lot more than that to make working with him bearable.”

 

“I’m sorry, are you saying that I need to be more rude?”

 

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. You’re an asshole too, Stiles. I mean that in the nicest way but how you handled Isaac just now makes me think that you can definitely handle this friend of mine.”

 

“Okaaaay?”

 

“So, still want it?”

 

He considers her offer for a second, something just doesn’t add up. 

 

“So you want me to work with you because you think I’m an asshole? You’re paying me to be an even bigger asshole?” 

 

Erica just grins at him but doesn’t say anything. Stiles is not sure what he’s getting himself into and he should probably think about this but like his dad says, curiosity is his achilles' heel and he’s nothing if not curious about this friend.

 

That’s why he nods his head and follows Erica to fill out his financial information for the job. Looks like Stiles is a lab assistant.

 

***

 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!!” 

 

The windows vibrate in their frames, that’s how loud Derek has just yelled at Erica. She stays rooted to her spot looking brave and fearless for all appearances but Boyd can see the stiff line of her body and her trembling hand. She’s scared out of her mind. 

 

“It’s got nothing to do with you, I need someon--”

 

Derek honest-to-god growls and even Boyd finds himself startled to the core and scared shitless. There have been a few times when he has seen Derek angry and none of those compare to this.

 

“Nothing to do with me?!”

 

Isaac lets out a mewl from where’s he’s plastered to the farthest wall from Derek. Boyd knows that he’s had a difficult past but times like these really show that the boy is more damaged than he looks at first glance. Usually, Derek jumps at the slightest cue of discomfort from Isaac but it’s a testament to how angry he is that even Isaac’s pathetic whining doesn’t deter him.

 

Erica is trying to step back and away from where Derek is practically looming over her, as much as Boyd wants to put himself between the two he knows that Derek doesn’t like it when any of them steps out of line. If there’s one thing Derek doesn’t take from anyone, it’s disrespect.

 

“I swear, Derek, it’s not what you think--”

 

“What about your heartbeat, Erica? I could probably hear it hammering from Beacon Hills.”

 

And that’s why it’s never wise to lie to Derek. They’re all good friends, they get along like siblings and they tease Derek relentlessly. He takes it too, with a lot of moaning and whining but he indulges them.

 

But no matter how close they become, no matter how many nights they sleep over at Derek’s or get along perfectly with his sisters, Derek never forgets to remind them that first and foremost, he is the eldest and he has certain responsibilities toward them. And that in return, he commands their respect.

 

“Okay, fine. But will you let me explain without the dramatic yelling and the growling?”

 

Erica is the only one out of them who dares to stand up to Derek and call him out on his bullshit. Isaac cares too much about being on Derek’s good side and Boyd doesn’t care enough to start shit so that leaves Erica to confront him most of the time.

 

“I am yelling and growling because I’m angry!”

 

“Oh really? I never would’ve guessed.”

 

“ERICA!”

 

Yup, that was Boyd jumping at the sheer volume of Derek’s threatening voice. Boyd’s a big guy but when Derek yells, he’s the first one to step out of the way because Derek is like a storm when he’s angry - he destroys everything in his wake.

 

“Just listen, okay? Remember Greenberg? That junior I had helping me last year who you made have an anxiety attack? Well, he had a contract with me for that semester so he had to stay even though he wanted to leave. But guess what, he ran away from me when I saw him in the hallway last semester so it was no surprise that he wasn’t going to return in the fall. And I couldn’t find anyone else so I had to manage the lab on my own which--”

 

“Which you did last semester and told me it was okay. So then why do you suddenly feel the need to find a new assistant?”

 

“Because I had a hectic semester between my shifts at the Employment Centre and the lab, okay? I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want you to feel bad about making my work harder but I doubt you’d be remorseful anyway so I guess yeah, I had a terrible semester because I was juggling too much work with a full course-load--”

 

“I didn’t realise you--” 

 

“That’s fine. I wasn’t even going to look for someone this term, I mean it’s your last year and I figured I could do a bit more juggling but then I met Stiles.”

 

“Stiles? That’s his name, Stiles? What the hell is a Stiles?”

 

“Stiles is the new lab assistant, who you will be seeing at least once a week for the rest of the semester.”

 

“Erica?”

 

Derek’s doing his flary-nose thing which usually means that he’s putting real effort into not ripping someone’s throat out. That someone would be Erica in this instance. Oh, what a lovely predicament to be in.

 

“Yes, Der-Der?”

 

“You just said that you weren’t going to hire anyone, so then why did you hire a freshman to sit on my head once a week? Is this another one of your schemes to get me to be friendly? Because if it is--”

 

“I don’t have schemes to do anything, Derek. The bio class was just a gentle nudge towar--”

 

She stops when Derek lets out a particularly nasty growl, he’s really good at making people shut up without using his words.

 

“Anyway, I said I wasn’t going to find someone because I thought you’d just make them have a breakdown too and I’m sure the university doesn’t want a lawsuit from angry parents. But I never considered the possibility of finding someone who could challenge you until I met Stiles.”

 

She knew Derek was not going to accept her decision with a smiling face, of course not, but maybe she’s having more fun breaking the news to Derek than she’d ever planned for.

 

“So this, _Stiles_. You think he can challenge me?”

 

“I know he can.”

 

“So you hired a freshman because, what? He can challenge me? You want me to make him have a mental breakdown? Isn’t that a bit counter-productive to what you just said?”

 

“Oooh reverse psychology, nice one, Der. But you’re right, I would be worried about that but ten minutes with Stiles and I knew he could hold his own against you.”

 

“Some freshman who’s just starting, are you sure?”

 

“Well, I’m willing to take my chances. If nothing else, at least you’d use your energy on making him weep and be a little less growly and grumbly at us.”

 

“Are you saying you are willing to risk a student’s mental health for me being a little nicer to you? That doesn’t sound like a responsible thing for--”

 

“You can try every argument in the book, Derek, but I’ve hired Stiles and he is staying.”

 

Derek just huffs and walks away because he knows she’s not going to give up right now. And if she knows him at all, he’ll be back. At a different time when she’s not as defensive and he has a new argument.

 

“Good to know you agree.”

 

She throws that at his retreating back just to take the mick out of him. And sure enough, he doesn’t disappoint.

 

She gets a middle finger and an especially gruff, “I don’t.” for her efforts.

 

Man, she loves winding Derek up. He’s such a sore loser.

 

***

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a shitty day today, which is nothing new but today was especially shitty. I got an assignment back with a grade lower than I'd expected. And the paper wasn't even that bad, the prof. was unclear on the language she wanted - it was basically to present psychological research about relationships in a paper to be published in a popular magazine - apparently, I used too much informal language. Excuse me for using words a lay person would understand! And she wrote that while it was clear that I'd put in effort, I should go to the Writing Centre for help with the language. I work at the Writing Centre. 
> 
> Anyway, sorry for unloading on you guys. I'm just not feeling very confident about my writing skills right now. Hopefully, at least this was a bit better than the stupid paper I messed up.


	4. What did you just say to me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They meet. Finally.

“So you got a job?”

“Yes.”

“Legal?”

“Of course, dad.”

“Well, excuse me for not trusting you after all the lies you’ve spewed since you could talk. Especially after that time with the dead body in the woods, you should get a certificate for lying for that one.”

“That depends on how you define lying, though.”

“Well, I define it as you not telling the truth. How do you define it?”

“Reclining your body... in a horizontal position.“

“And then you wonder why I ask you so many questions.”

“No seriously, dad, it’s all legal. Trust me.”

“Trust _you_?”

“Trust... Scott?”

“Oh you mean Scott, your partner-in-crime since elementary school, that Scott? Yeah sure.”

“Fiiine, I can fax you the paperwork if you want.”

“Do that.”

“What happened to the father-son bond we worked on for years? Is nothing sacred anymore?”

“Hmm, let’s see here. Just last year I saw you at five different crime scenes none of which you have been able to justify. I know for a fact that you tp’d two cars last summer and were involved in the disappearance of a police van in some capacity. I also learned that you have been listening in on all my radio calls for years.”

“Well, not the boring ones.”

“So where was this father-son bond when you were interfering in police matters that could’ve gotten you arrested and me fired?”

“Yeah okay, I will concede this one.”

“Good. Now, what is this job?”

“Well, I’ll be assisting someone in managing a lab.”

“Someone?”

“Erica. I met her at the Employment Centre today and she said she wanted to hire me.”

“What? Just like that? I didn’t even know you had a Resume typed up.”

“I don’t.”

“I’m sorry, that sounded a lot like ‘I don’t’.”

“Yes, okay? I don’t have a Resume.”

“And this Erica person just hired you for your blinding beauty and charming personality?”

“Haha, you’re funny, old man. She didn’t hire me just for my beauty, she said she was hiring me because I’m an asshole.”

“She’s paying you to be an asshole?”

“Kind of, it’s a long story.”

“I have time.”

“Look, there’s someone who uses this lab regularly and he’s an asshole. Erica told me he is responsible for the last three assistants leaving but she thinks that I can handle this asshole. Now I might not have been proud of being a dick before but today you are talking to a very proud man, Dad.”

“Sounds shady to me, kid.”

“I know but don’t worry, I’ve looked into the job posting and all the paperwork she wants me to sign. I even went to the HR office on-campus, they say it’s all legit. Plus, Scott’s RA knows Erica and he says she comes off a bit intense sometimes but he’s known her years and he also knows the asshole. He says I just need to not show weakness, apparently the guy can smell fear.”

“I don’t know what to think of this, Stiles. I mean it sounds--”

“Hey, I promise you that I’ll be safe. I know what I’m doing, Dad.”

“Okay well, you be careful. And if this asshole gives you trouble, you give me a call, ya hear? I will come down there and teach him a lesson or two if I feel the need.”

“Alright pops, sounds good.”

“Stiles?”

“Yeah, dad?”

He can hear his dad breathing on the end of the line but he doesn’t say anything for a long moment. Stiles knows how hard it is for his dad to have him be so far away where he can’t protect his son.

“You’re all I have left after her, please be careful.”

Now it’s his turn to just breathe and not talk because even though it’s been years since he lost his mom, he still doesn’t know how to cope with the reality that she’s gone. It’s even rarer that his dad mentions her, because the only time John Stilinski talks about his late wife is when he’s drowning in whiskey.

“I promise, dad.”

“Good. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Alright, take care, dad.”

“Yeah.”

And then the line is dead, before he can even say goodbye and he knows it’s because his dad is sitting in his Sheriff’s office struggling to stop the tears from falling.

He’s not all that different as he lays back in his bed and pulls the covers over his head. The tears haven’t started yet but they’re not far. He curls up into a ball and takes a deep heaving breath before he feels wetness on his nose. It’s been months since he last gave in to the urge to cry. He’s grossly overdue.

***  
Scott’s up and at ‘em early in the morning while Stiles is walking behind his best friend, dragging his feet and trying to stay upright.

“You look like a zombie.”

“Thanks for the confidence boost, Scotty. No really, thank you.”

“Hey, I’m serious, Stiles. Didn’t you sleep last night?”

“I uh--a little bit.”

“Your dad called?”

And this is why Scott and he have been best friends since kindergarten because as oblivious and aloof as Scott is, he is perfectly attuned to Stiles and they don’t need words to talk about Stiles’ mom or Scott’s dad most days.

“Yeah.”

“Aren’t you excited to turn 19 next month? Then you’ll be able to drink and go to clubs legally. Your dad won’t be pissed when you get drunk, then.”

And there’s that aloofness - Scott doesn’t even try to be subtle when he changes the topic. Just takes a sharp turn in whichever direction he wants, and Stiles just goes right along for the ride.

“I am lookin--”

They get cut off as someone shoulders past them and into the class in a hurry. They’re not as late as last time but it’s still cutting it very close. Some students are still settling in as Stiles leads Scott to the same seats where they’d sat on Monday. It’s a good row, he can clearly see the screen and they can whisper without the prof. hearing them.

It isn’t until Stiles is situated and has his notebook on the desk that he notices the dark head in front of him - GDRF is here. Stile is not proud but he bumps his leg into the guy’s chair not so accidentally to see if he will turn around and growl at him. He doesn’t.

Five minutes later, everyone is settled and the professor is on his third slide. Stiles looks around and finds some familiar faces, of course most of those faces are busy looking at their phones or laptops. The girl next to Scott is sketching another dragon, it looks suspiciously like Toothless.

“So, what were you saying before?”

He looks away from GDRF’s head when Scott’s voice startles him. So he was staring at the back of someone’s head, so what? College is all about exploring, they say.

“What? Oh, I was saying that I am excited to turn 19, I mean who isn’t? I can finally buy booze without a fake ID, which Dad found in my stuff when I was packing and gave me crap about.”

“No way!”

“Yes way. He cornered me that day we went to watch Guardians of the Galaxy and asked me where I got the ID.”

“Don’t tell me you gave Danny up.”

“Of course not, Jackson would’ve killed me by now. I told him I made it myself, with the help of some guy online.”

He catches GDRF shifting around in his seat, which could just be about him being uncomfortable in his chair but now that Stiles is aware of this guy’s reactions to their conversation, even something as small as shifting in his chair is getting a rise out of Stiles.

“Man, you’re so good at lying. I would’ve given Danny up in seconds, your dad is scary.”

“Yeah well, I’ve had a lot of practice. But anyway, it’ll be nice to go clubbing here, I saw a few posters in the residence building. Apparently, the night life in Berkeley is amazing.”

“I don’t doubt it. Remember when Lydia and Allison came here last year to look around, Allison said she loved the club downtown that most students go to.”

“Alright! I can’t wait till we’re both 19, Scotty!”

Okay, the guy in front of him is definitely making noises. Stiles is pretty sure he heard the guy grinding his teeth just now, what the fuck is up with that? Classroom etiquette, anyone?

“Neither can I, then we can all go out and have fun rather than staying home while Jackson enjoys and then teases us.”

“Our time will come, bro.”

Right. See, Stiles is a bit of a researcher. He knows a few things about body language and reaction times and experiments. Which is why he can say, based on the two classes they’ve attended here, that GDRF only growls or rolls his eyes or grinds his teeth when Stiles speaks. Not when Scott is loudly whispering something, not as much growling then.

So now he wants to know what the fuck is this guy’s problem?

Scott starts telling him about the new job that he has at the vet clinic downtown and how much he’s looking forward to playing with the dogs there. Stiles is busy in careful observation of the fuckboy in his natural habitat.

At the end of class, this is the data he has:

 

**Reactions to Scott speaking:**

Growling- 1 Shifting in seat - 3 Grinding of teeth - 0 Exaggerated rolling of eyes - 0

 

**Reactions to Stiles speaking:**

Growling- 5 Shifting in seat - 7 Grinding of teeth - 3 Exaggerated rolling of eyes - 9 at least

 

And Stiles talked less than half the time that Scott spoke. One thing is clear, this guy has a problem with Stiles. And Stiles needs to know what it is.

So as soon as the prof. relieves them and people start packing up their stuff, Stiles bumps his leg into the guy’s chair again. He hears a loud sigh but he guy doesn’t turn around.

Then, Stiles decides to whistle a familiar tune. The guy huffs loudly but doesn’t turn around. Scott is very oblivious to what is happening around him.

When he belts out the first words to Uptown Funk, he hears a muffled ‘For fuck’s sake’ and that’s it, he’s in.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

This time the guy whips around to face Stiles and the first thing he registers is that the guy is beautiful. The second thing he registers is that the guy is seething with rage.

Next to him, Scott is confused as to why Stiles is asking this question and of who. That is, until the guy uses his words to convey his irritation for the first time.

“My problem is people sitting behind me talking through the whole fucking lecture. If you pay a bit more attention maybe you won’t drop out next semester.”

Okay, that’s it. No one has ever been able to get Stiles going so quick like this guy has, not even Jackson. Even that douche spares himself a bit of easiness from him. Not this guy, though.

“Are you suggesting that I’m stupid and unintelligent and will drop out? You don’t know a single thing about me, you asshole!”

The guy does this weird nose flaring thing that could be the hottest thing ever but right now it’s driving Stiles mad.

“I know that you’re not here to study, otherwise you wouldn’t spend the entire class talking about getting wasted and going to clubs!”

“That was a private conversation!”

“In the middle of a lecture!”

He knows they’re creating a scene, people are stopping to look at them but it doesn’t stop his urge to punch this guy.

“No one else seemed disturbed by it.”

“I was.”

“Then feel free to sit somewhere else.”

“I found that seat first, you can sit somewhere else. Preferably outside the classroom.”

“Well, seeing as how you don’t own this school I don’t think that’s your decision.”

“I think you’ll find that a complaint against a student can go a long way. I wouldn’t challenge anyone if I were you.”

Stiles finds himself turning toward Scott in disbelief,

“Is he looking at me with a smirk on his face right now? Are you threatening me? You know what I'm gonna do? I'm going to break off one of the legs off these chairs, wrap it in saran wrap, roll it in chilli powder, and shove it up your freaking--“

“Whoa, Stiles, okay. We get it.”

Everyone in the room is dead silent, staring at them with wide eyes. Stiles still doesn’t get what is this guy’s problem but it’s probably for the best that Scott stopped him when he did.

The guy clenches his jaw and turns toward Scott,

“I have been controlling myself so far but if your friend doesn’t stop instigating me, I will rip his throat out. With my teeth.”

Scott just nods dumbly at the guy while Stiles is still reeling from his own very-violent rant and from what the guy has just said.

“Why don’t you threaten me to my face, huh big guy?”

“I’m not threatening you, I’m warning you.”

“Well guess who doesn’t give a single fuck? Me. Don’t think I didn’t notice your growling and your grinding of teeth instead of using your words.”

“Didn’t stop you though, did it? Probably way too subtle for someone like you.”

“Someone like me, what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Fresh out of high-school with too much time on your hands so you think a classroom is the best place to discuss werewolves with your friend. I have been so tolerant of your disturbance but maybe I shouldn’t have been.”

“Oh yeah? Watcha gonna do?”

“I’ve had grown men bawling in front of me because they couldn’t understand the concept of a class. You are nothing.”

“You wanna try that on me, bro? I can assure you I won’t be the one bawling like a little kid when all is said and done, you mother---.”

“Stiles!”

Scott’s voice brings him out of this trance where the only person he could see was the guy and the only thing he could hear was the gravelly voice threatening him. When he looks around, people have started filing out of the room but they still turn around to watch him.

The guy is not standing in front of Stiles now, he’s walking out of the front exit with a backpack in hand.

“You okay, Stiles?”

He just nods his head at Scott and starts packing up as students start coming in for the next class. He is fine, he just needs to sit down and go over what just happened.

***

“Uh-oh, you’ve got your fangs and claws out. What poor student is having a breakdown this time?”

“You got me into this fucking mess!”

“Which one? Because apparently it’s my life’s mission to mess up yours.”

“Seems like it.”

“Are you going to tell me why you’re sulking at walls?”

“Those freshmen from bio? I had an argument with one of them today.”

“The cute one?”

“Erica!”

"Okay, okay, I was just trying to lighten the mood.”

“I think we’ve had enough of your lightening by now.”

“It’s not my fault you’re such a grump or that you can’t stand people enjoying themselves.”

“Oh well, excuse me for wanting to learn in a class I paid a thousand dollars to get into. Clearly, conversations about werewolves and alcohol are more pressing.”

“Sometimes I wonder what it’d been like if I had met you in your first semester here. If you were a grump even as a freshman.”

“If attending classes and paying attention makes me a grump, then yes I was.”

“Right. Well, I only came to let you know that the new assistant is coming by at 5 for a tour and to see what his job is going to be.”

He looks up from the papers scattered on the lab table, eyebrows pinched together in irritation but the days when Derek is not irritated are few and far between so she doesn’t give it much thought. He makes a vaguely disapproving noise.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise we were running this lab according to your schedule.”

“I’m done with stupid freshmen for today.”

“Well, you can always work at the loft.”

“I have the lab booked till 7.”

“Then I guess you’ll meet Stiles today.”

He feels a wave of irritation course through him, but there’s also something else. A feeling that there’s something important he’s missing, something that’s on the tip of his tongue but he can’t place it. Like when he forgets where he knows that actor in the thing from.

“Fine.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? Any good?


	5. Thank you for being a friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are starting to slide into place..

The second he lays eyes on the person Erica is leading into the lab, that feeling of knowing something that he can’t quite place - it’s all gone now.

Stiles. The guy Erica has hired for the lab is also the guy he almost punched this morning.

Stiles. The name Erica has mentioned about a hundred times since yesterday is also the name that the other guy behind him had yelled in the class today.

Derek should’ve known it was him.

“Alright, introductions. Derek, this is Stiles. Stiles, this is the asshole.”

“Erica!”

“I’ll say.”

The nerve of this fucking kid. Well, Derek doesn’t have to be nice to him now that he’s said that.

“You’d know all about assholes, wouldn’t you?”

The kid is looking at him with a clenched jaw which looks more adorable than anything else--no Derek, shut up.

Erica is looking between them with raised eyebrows, waiting for one of them to explain.

“Remember that annoying kid from bio? This is him.”

The kid is grinding his teeth at him but Derek has seen Laura’s daughter look more intimidating than this kid with weird moles on his face. Erica whips her head around to look closely at the kid,

“You’re--”

“Yeah and you remember that asshole I was telling you about in my class who keeps growling like a dog? Turns out that asshole is your asshole friend.”

That’s it, he’s lunging at the kid before he’s even finished the sentence but Erica steps between them just on time and is holding him back from ripping that kid’s head off right now. He is literally raring to have a go at him, his body is in fight mode and how the fuck is Erica stopping him?

He is physically dragging her with him as she tries to hold him back, while that kid stands there in front of him with his arms folded in front of his chest. He is smirking at Derek.

“Will you stop, Derek? Hey stop, Der. What are you? An animal?”

That makes him freeze because that’s what this kid had called him before. And now Erica, his closest friend of three years, is agreeing with him. That makes him stop moving toward the kid and bashing his head in.

“What did you just say?”

Erica seems to have realised what she’s said and is looking anywhere but at him. The kid is not smirking anymore, maybe he has realised that Derek is very serious right now. This is not a joke to him.

As much as he despises this kid and doesn’t want him here, Erica’s betrayal stings more right now. He can count his friends on one hand. One finger, really. And he took a lot of time to trust these people, people who have seen him at his worst.

Animal, that’s what _she_ used to call him with a sneer on her face.

And Erica knows this. This kid might not, but Erica knows it. She knows how much he still struggles with his past, has seen him having a panic attack because of it. Yet, she said it.

He pulls his arm out of her grip as she still refuses to look him in the eye.

“Der, list--”

He whips around to face her with a mask on his face,

“No, you listen, Erica. You wanna hire this kid, do it. But don’t you fucking dare call me that, ever again. And don’t come to the loft tonight.”

She looks hurt but he really doesn’t care right now as he zips past the kid to gather his stuff scattered around on the lab table. He can’t sit here and pretend to study while Erica and this kid are here. Maybe, he should look for another place to work on his thesis.

He’s got his back to them as he stuffs the papers into his bag when Erica comes and stands beside him,

“Derek, you know I didn’t mean wha--”

“I’m sure you didn’t.”

She tries to move closer to him but he slings the strap of his bag on his shoulder and walks away toward the door.

“I didn’t mean it, of course I didn’t--”

He should just let it go. He should, but the one thing he’s never been able to do is let go of his past. And the memory that’s now raw in his mind because of what Erica has just said, has gotten him on edge.

“I’m gonna tell you something, Erica. And as much as I don’t want to do this in front of a stranger, he’s your new best friend so I will. I need you to stop meddling in my business. I don’t care that you think you’re helping me or that you have any right to interfere, you need to stop. I’m asking you nicely. I only do that once.”

He turns around and leaves before Erica says anything else. He knows he has hurt her but she did it to him first and the one thing he doesn’t know how to handle is being hurt. Not even after a lifetime of hurt he has already lived through.

He laughs drily at his fate, people around him in the hallway turn around to look at him at the noise. He doesn’t know what they see but maybe it’s better than what he sees when he looks into the mirror.

***

“Hey, are you okay?”

Erica is standing near the lab table with her back to him but he can see her shoulders shaking. That guy--Derek, he has just walked out of the lab after saying really rude things to Erica and now she’s crying.

Honestly, it happened so fast that Stiles isn’t even sure what happened. One second the guy was raring to have a go at him - which was not the sexiest and simultaneously the scariest thing he’s ever seen - and then the next second, he was frozen in place. Stiles didn’t even register what was said that made him stop.

And then he got mad at Erica and she was apologising and then he was gone. Now, Stiles is awkwardly standing in the lab not knowing what to do, while Erica is crying silently.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

He’s not sure of that but then she turns around, her eyes are rimmed red and it’s clear that she’s been crying but she takes a deep breath and then she’s as fierce as she always is.

“Listen, Stiles, Derek is um--he’s an asshole, like I said but he’s very complicated. He’s a nice person--”

“Are you sure about that? I mean he just made you cry and then stormed out of here--”

“Look, he had his reasons to do what he did. I can’t tell you because it’s not my place and he’d kill me if I did. What I can tell you is that it was my fault, I was in the wrong, just now.”

“Then he should’ve forgiven you, that’s what friends do.”

“And he will, he just needs some time alone.”

“Well, looks like he’s going to be getting it seeing as how he’s banished you from meeting him.”

Erica’s face falls at that, she looks away from him to hide it but Stiles has had enough time with his dad to recognise pain in people’s eyes.

“I’m sorry, you’re right. It’s not my place.”

“Nah, you’re okay. See, Derek is not like most people, he takes a long time to trust someone and I value that trust more than most things in my life. Today, I’ve betrayed that trust a little bit, so he needs time to regroup. It’s okay.”

As much as Stiles hates this guy and doesn’t want to admit it, he can understand what Erica is saying really well. Stiles is one of those people too, who take a long time to trust and he knows that it hurts a lot when that trust is broken.

It’s weird to hate the sight of someone and yet, feel like you know an intimate part of that person. He feels a chill run down his spine at the thought that Derek is similar to him in such a private way.

“Stiles, if you’re reconsidering this job, you can tell me now. Like I said, he can be an asshole, looks like you’ve had first-hand experience of that. But don’t hold this against him, this is all on me.”

“First, I’m not reconsidering. If anything, I’m more interested in working here now. Second, this is between you and him. Even if I don’t agree with the way he reacted, it’s not my place.”

Erica finally smiles at him, he didn’t even realise that she wasn’t doing her usual predatory grin thing until just now,

“More interested in working here? Any chance that’s got anything to do with how good looking Derek is?”

The answer to that question is no, of course not. But the fact that it takes him a second to shake his head no, is a little jolting.

_Don’t go getting ideas, brain._

“No, it’s more about me earning.”

She tilts her head in that ‘I’m considering world domination’ way before straightening up.

“Okay. Let’s start the tour, then.”

He follows after her silently as her heels click loudly on the hardwood floor.

“Right, so this is where we keep lab supplies like test-tubes, pipettes, burners, etc. And through here is the back room, where we keep specimens. Now, this right here is the--”

“Ameiva Polops, an endangered species of lizard. This is the only specimen in North America.”

Erica makes a considering sound, “Hmmm, looks like someone did their research.”

He winces slightly because this job is not why he had done this research, but if the shoe fits.

“I’m all about research, me.”

“Well, maybe you and Derek will bond over your shared love of research. He’s working on his Honours thesis right now and as much as he complains about it, he loves it.”

Stiles just nods silently at that because one, he can’t picture he and Derek bonding under any circumstances. Two, he doesn’t want to know anything more about Derek and yet, he wants to know everything he can so it’s a bit of a conflict inside his brain right now that he needs to sort as soon as he gets home today.

“Moving on, this is where we keep Kermit the frog.”

At the tight lipped smile he offers her because he’s struggling not to laugh out loud, she just sighs and says, “I know.”

 

***

  
Scott is going on and on about his job and how his boss is the best vet ever and how he’s so accommodating while Stiles is trying to see how many curly fries he can fit into his mouth at once. Feels like old times.

This is the first time they’ve seen each other in two days because on Thursday, they had sat down and decided to change a few classes, take courses that interested each of them. So now they only have Bio in common and as much as Stiles misses sitting next to Scott and sniggering at stupid jokes, he can now take 2000-level classes Scott can’t.

He’s even got a 3000 level psychology class, he had to beg the professor to let him take a co-requisite rather than a pre-requisite but Stiles is now enrolled in Human Sexual Behaviour and it is an awesome class. Scott, on the other hand, got into two economics classes which Stiles will never take willingly. So it’s all worked out in the end, even if they don’t see each other as much.

“Dr. Deaton knows so much about everything, Stiles.”

He nods his head while stuffing another fry into his already very full mouth. His lips are stretched out around crisp, golden perfection because curly fries are the best.

“Oh and I told him about you, and how you think werewolves could be real. He got this weird look on his face but then he just smiled and shrugged it off. I mean he’s just a vet but he’d know if--Stiles! Are you okay?”

Stiles is not sure which part of what Scott’s just told him made him choke because it all feels a little surreal, to be honest. Why is Scott talking to his new boss about Stiles? He is flattered, he really is but why did Scott have to mention the werewolf thing? And why did this man get a weird look on his face and why did he smile it off?

Stiles wants to meet this man but right now their table is covered in what used to be curly fries so he should probably help Scott with cleaning.

“Are you okay, bro?”

“Yeah I’m good, Scott. Just got startled there for a second.”

Table’s all clean and they’re back on track. Stiles is thinking about this Deaton person, his dad’s voice chips in helpfully - _‘Don’t even think about it’._

He huffs at the voice, his dad’s distrust has transferred over to the voice in his head. Great.

“Hey Stiles, remember Isaac? The guy from the Employment Centre?”

“Scarf?”

“His name is Isaac, Stiles.”

“He is Scarf to me now and forever. What about him?”

“He’s in my Microeconomics class. I sat next to him today.”

“Wait, Scarf’s in first year? I thought he was with Erica in--”

“No, he’s in his third year, he’s just taking it as an elective.”

“An elective?”

“Yeah.”

“Economics?”

“Yeah.”

“What a dick.”

“Stilles!”

“What?”

“Do you not like him or something?”

“Weren’t you there when he insulted me in the Employment Centre? Or were you too busy admiring his pale skin and his dead eyes?”

Scott sputters for a response and that more than anything convinces Stiles that he’s not entirely wrong about Scott making eyes at Scarf.

“What? No. I wasn’t.”

“Very convincing, Scott.”

“Stiiiileees.”

“Yeah whining like a three-year old is definitely going to convince me you’re not thinking of banging Scarf.”

“Stiles!”

“Don’t you think you’re saying my name too much? I think you’re saying my name too much.”

Scott just sits there with a noticeably red face, frowning down at his food. Stiles has probably gone too far in the ribbing. Well, damage control, here I come.

“Did I tell you that Erica’s asshole friend from the lab is the asshole in our bio class?”

“WHAT?”

So, he may have failed to mention to Scott that Derek is the guy from bio class and he’s Erica’s friend from the lab too. And the reason may be that bringing it up will remind Scott of the little argument that happened in bio class on Wednesday that Scott has forgotten about. Maybe.

“Yeah.”

He’s not going to say more than he has to here. There’s a chance that Scott will feel the need to call his dad if Stiles lets on how much of a problem he’s having with Derek because he gets super-protective like that.

Stiles is hoping that this topic will be buried under the weight of Scott’s usual _‘Allison is so beautiful, she is perfect, she is a goddess’_ dinner talk. But he knows from the sudden widening of Scott’s eyes just now that his best friend has just remembered the argument from bio. Hurray.

“He’s the guy you cursed at in front of the whole class?! Wh--”

“It wasn’t the whole class, Scott. People were--”

He shuts his mouth at Scott’s bitch face directed at him.

“People stopped walking to watch you bite each other’s heads off! He looked like he was going to punch you any secon--”

“He wouldn’t fucking dare…”

Yup, Scott’s still got that bitch face. _‘Stop making it worse, kid’_   his dad’s voice rings in his ears.

“He was going to floor you any second and you were making it worse.”

Scott stops for effect, Stiles is dying to tell Scott what a dick Derek was being but he’d rather get the disappointed look over with first.

“He didn’t even say anything, Stiles. You started yelling at him and cursing--”

“He started it, Scott. You may not have noticed but he started it.”

“What’re you talking about? You were the one who started yelling at him.”

“Yeah, because he had been grinding his teeth and growling - fucking growling - all through the lecture every time I talked.”

Scott is looking at him like he’s questioning Stiles’ mental health. Well, it’s not the first time and neither is it the last.

“That’s why I said _‘why don’t you learn to use your words’_. Apparently, he was controlling himself by growling and rolling his eyes. Dick.”

“Controlling himself? Why?”

“Because we were talking.”

“He was that disturbed?”

“Yes! But apparently only when I was speaking.”

Scott frowns at him in that ‘You are perfect, Stiles, don’t doubt yourself’ way. Well, tell that to fucking Derek, he thinks.

“Were we that loud? I mean no one else seemed bothered, did they?”

“No, I would’ve noticed. Everyone was busy on their phones and laptops. Except him, he was growling and grinding his teeth the entire time.”

Scott looks down at the table which means there’s something he’s thinking that will probably make Stiles angry. Alright, bring it, Scotty.

“What?”

“I don’t think he was-- I mean, maybe the way he said it wasn’t right but--uh.”

“Scott, what’re you saying?”

“I just--well, he wanted to pay attention to the lecture right? And we were disturbing him, so he’s not in the wrong, technically.”

“Are you defending that asshole right now?”

“What? No. He shouldn’t have been y’know--growling or whatever but we were in a class, Stiles. If we were disturbing him, then we were wrong.”

“I was, you not so much.”

“How do you mean?”

Oh, sweet naive Scott.

“Well, he was only making cave man sounds when I was speaking so clearly you talking didn’t disturb him.”

“Maybe you thought he was doing it when you spoke. Like maybe, you didn’t hear him when I was speak--”

“I made a table, Scott. Of all the times when he made a sound and pretty much every time it was while I was talking. Science doesn’t lie, Scott.”

Scott does the looking away thing again and Stiles wants to know why is his best friend so keen on defending a total stranger who he has no connection to--wait. Wait a minute.

“Are you defending him because he’s Scarf’s friend?”

“What? No, I’m not defending him.”

“Coulda fooled me.”

“Stiles, I was just going to suggest that maybe you should leave that job if he’s like that. I mean, Erica warned you but you’ve already had an incident with him and that’s just gonna make it worse so--”

“I’m not leaving the job.”

He gets up and walks out of the meal hall, ignoring Scott’s calls of his name behind him because he’s angry at Scott. Or maybe, he’s angry at someone else and taking it out on Scott. Whatever.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like it? No?


	6. Murphy's Law

Stiles is enjoying perfect peace - he’s on tumblr with his 104 song playlist playing in the background and no one to disturb him, it is perfect peace - when his phone chimes with a text.

Ignoring the text alert, he keeps scrolling down into the bottomless pit of insanity that is tumblr, it’s almost always Scott texting him.

He’s not angry with Scott, per se, but he isn’t fine with him either. Yesterday, he had told Scott what happened in the lab on Wednesday and all Scott had to offer was, “Just leave the job, bro. It’s not worth it.”

“I’m not leaving, Scott. I already told you.”

“Then why are you complaining about him?”

“Uh first, I’m not complaining. I’m telling you what he did to poor Erica. Second, since when do I need permission to complain to you?”

Scott had looked at him wide eyes, “Stiles, I didn’t mean--”

“You know what, Scott, forget it.”

He had left soon after that because Scott kept looking at him with his stupid puppy-dog eyes and making Stiles feel guilty for his little outburst.

But seriously though, enough is enough. Scott had been talking non-stop about _Isaac this_ and _Isaac that_ and it got on Stiles’ nerves. On top of all that, Scott was so quick to dismiss his concerns about Derek. Who is he supposed to talk to about that asshole now?

His phone pings with another text, pulling him out of a trance.

**1:39 PM from Erica: Any chance u can go to d lab now? M out of campus, it’s urgent**

**1:41 PM from Erica: Prof. doing a workshop on Sunday, needs supplies from lab**

He doesn’t necessarily want to go work right now but if Erica needs his help, then yes sure.

**1:41 PM from Erica: I’ll email u what he needs. Just count & leave everything right on the table. Someone will collect.**

**1:42 PM from Erica: I owe you one!**

It’s not a lot of work, it seems. Just count a few things and leave them for someone to collect. Easy enough, plus he gets Erica owing him so win-win. Except one small thing--

**1:44 PM from Erica: Don’t think Derek’s there**

Alright, that’s that sorted then. Stiles jumps out of bed and stretches his muscles that have been locked in place thanks to his three hour tumblr session. He peers out his third-floor window to see the giant tree right outside swaying with the force of the 20mph wind that campus security had posted notices about.

Oh well, he’s just running across campus to the Science Building, it shouldn’t be that bad.

***  
Maybe he spoke too soon.

The weather outside is bad, the wind is unforgiving as it seeps through his bones and makes his blood freeze. He should definitely have brought that jacket he decided to leave at the last minute.

“I’m going to die here in the snow and they’re not even going to find my body till Summer.”

Thankfully, the Science building is not that far from the residence buildings and he gets there before he freezes on the sidewalk. Shaking his hair out to get rid of the flurries he can feel on his scalp, Stiles pulls open the heavy door of the traditional style building.

The wooden door creaks open with a loud sound to reveal a dark hallway. Stiles feels a little uneasy stepping into the darkness, even his old high school was less scary than this place and there were at least two murders in the Beacon Hills High hallway - that they know of.

“Oh fuck, this looks like the perfect place to shoot Scream V.”

He pulls out his earphones from his sweatshirt pocket, stuffs them into his ears and sets the volume at max. If he’s going to die, he’s going to go listening to Harry Styles’ low, rumbly voice.

If his dad could see him right now, he’d shake his head in shame watching his only son tiptoeing into an empty building with his heart in his throat looking like the sidekick in a horror film who always dies first.

“I’m not scared.”

He’s not sure if he’s reassuring himself or his dad’s voice in his head but he doesn’t sound very sure.

“Come on buddy, we can do this.”

Squaring his shoulders, Stiles straightens up to his full height and takes a deep breath. It’s just a dark hallway, that’s all. He’s a Sheriff’s son, he has seen three dead bodies and he is not afraid of a dark hallway.

By the time he walks up the stairs to the third floor, he’s singing along to the music and all thoughts of dead bodies in dark hallways are forgotten. He’s also forgotten that this is a school building, and he is here to work.

Maybe that’s why he does what he does.

“And let mee kisssss youuuu--“

He cuts off abruptly with his hands stopped mid-gesture and a leg lifted off the ground in an attempt to keep his balance and not go sprawling across the floor thanks to his weird stumble/dance way of entering rooms. Voice stuck in his throat, Stiles is absolutely frozen on the spot because standing there at the edge of the long lab table in all his glory is Derek.

He’s staring at Stiles like he’s grown a second head or something, which yeah okay he has just burst into the lab singing a One Direction song at the top of his lung’s capacity and he was also doing a dance move from the music video maybe.

Right.

***

After standing frozen on the spot for a good moment waiting for Derek’s outburst, Stiles lowers his hands to his sides and looks away. It’s only when he’s looking at the cabinets lining the lab’s walls and not Derek’s shocked face that he realises that Zayn is hitting his high note because the song is still playing in his earphones. It sounds screechingly loud in the thunderous silence of the Science building.

“Uh--I didn’t--I wasn’t--it um. I didn’t think you’d be here.”

Derek just stares at him with wide eyes and if Stiles was being honest, he’d admit that Derek looks breathtakingly beautiful like this but good thing he’s not in the business of being honest.

He clears his throat pointedly to get Derek to move or at least focus his intense stare elsewhere. There’s only so much attention a guy can handle before it gets too much. Obviously, this has nothing to do with how Derek’s eyes are fixated on him and how his face feels like it’s too hot. Obviously, this has everything to do with Stiles’ very fickle mental health. Obviously.

Derek does look away after a second, he snaps his eyes away to stare at the lab table strewn with papers. He sits down and starts rummaging through the papers, not even sparing Stiles a glance.

He doesn’t know why he feels irritation pricking at his skin at Derek’s lack of manners, _didn’t his parents teach him anything?_ It’s not like he and Derek have had conversations before or that they even know each other but it’s common courtesy to greet someone when they enter a room you are in.

Which, yes he may have entered the room a little differently than most people would but come on.

“Look, sorry for disturbing you or whatever but Erica told me you weren’t here.”

Derek looks up with a frown on his face, rude much.

“It’s fine.”

It looks like it actually pained him to say this, like someone is twisting a knife inside him to get him to say the words.

“Jesus, slow down. Bowled me over with your sincerity there!”

If he was a good person he wouldn’t enjoy the scowl on Derek’s face right now. _If_ he was, that is.

“Are you just here to disturb me, then?”

“Do you ever say anything like a normal person?”

“Excuse me?”

“Never mind.”

He has enough experience with Jackson to know that arguing with Derek will never solve anything, people like him wake up in the morning with the explicit purpose of fucking someone’s day up.

Case in point, Derek just looks away and starts reading a paper lying on the lab table as if he’s alone in the room. Huffing, Stiles walks away from the douche because if Derek can be rude then so can he.

Plugging his earphones back in, he opens up his email account on his phone and starts gathering the equipment Erica has mentioned in her email. He’s being paid to do trivial work, he’d have to be an idiot to muck up this job.

Derek is still busy reading when Stiles comes back out with a box full of beakers and CO2 sensors. He vaguely remembers Scott and him messing around with sensors like these in high school when they’d hooked up the sensor to the wrong beaker and ended up getting a reading that almost gave poor Mrs. Carlyle a heart attack.

He chuckles at the memory and hears something that sounds suspiciously like a grinding of teeth in response. In irritation, Stiles puts the box down on the table a little roughly. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Derek jumping in place as the lab table rattles and some of his papers go flying to the floor.

Before he even has time to say something, he has Derek severely disregarding his personal space,

“What the fuck is your problem?”

As much as they’ve yelled and cursed each other, Stiles hasn’t been this close to Derek while any of those activities and right now he can probably count all the different colours the guy’s eyes are made of.

“Oh, he speaks! I thought you communicate solely in grumbles and growls.”

Apparently, that hits home because the next thing he knows Stiles is being manhandled and pushed till his back hits the lab table and yup, that’s Derek caging him in with his brickhouse of a body.

Under very different circumstances Stiles would’ve really liked to be in this positio--no, shut up.

“Yeah well, I don’t deem you important enough to talk to you.”

Ouch, that hurt. Stiles pouts like he is actually hurt by this guy’s rudeness when all Derek has been to him since they met is rude. In all fairness, he probably looks like a jock asshole making fun of the hero with an exaggerated pout. Oh well.

“And what about Erica? She’s your friend and you’d still rather growl and yell at her than talk like a normal person. She cried that day after you left, did you know?”

Derek deflates a little at that and Stiles thinks he’s won this one but then the very next second, the guy’s nose is flaring in a very primal way and Stiles has seen enough wildlife documentaries to know that that’s a sign of anger.

“You don’t know anything about me and Erica!”

“I know that she was crying because you were a dick who walked away instead of listening to her.”

Derek pushes a little more into his personal space and with a sneer he whispers, “And who made you the expert on friendships?”

“At least I don’t make my friends cry because I’m an asshole. “

“Why the fuck do you even care?”

“Erica is my friend too.”

The guy snorts, he honest-to-god snorts at Stiles.

“You’ve known her, what? Four minutes?”

“And even I know how to communicate with her.”

“Fuck you.”

“And you know the funny part? She defended you when I was cursing you out. She told me she was wrong and I shouldn’t blame you.”

And it’s over, Derek steps away from him and Stiles relaxes against the table. He keeps his eyes fixed on Derek while massaging at his back where the table was digging into his flesh and probably left a bruise.

As his fingers skirt over a particularly nasty bump, a hiss escapes his mouth before he can stop it. Derek whips around instantaneously to face him with wide-blown eyes.

“Are you hurt?”

Stiles is stunned into silence because Derek has never sounded this gentle, the guy actually looks worried and it’s more than Stiles can take so when Derek tries coming closer to him with tentative steps, Stiles steps back with a hand outstretched between them stopping Derek.

“I’m fine.”

He jerks, Derek actually jerks back at his words. He flinches at Stiles’ words.

“I didn’t mean to.”

He says it almost too softly, Stiles would’ve missed it if he wasn’t focusing all his attention on the man in front of him.

“‘s okay.”

The silence in the room is deafening, Stiles can hear his own heart rabbiting in his chest as they both stand stock still in the almost dark room as the lights gets dimmer due to lack of movement.

Then, all of a sudden Derek turns around and walks away from him. With heavy measured steps, Stiles moves to pick up the box from the table to put it next to the door for whoever is picking it up.

On the other side of the long table, Derek is picking up his papers and stuffing them into a backpack. Neither of them says anything. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Derek kneeling on the floor to pick up his papers and he almost wants to break the silence. Doesn’t know what he’d say, but he can’t take this silence anymore.

Stiles doubts that Derek would reciprocate any efforts at conversation so maybe it’s better that they mind their own business.

It isn’t until he reaches the door and finds the door locked that he makes the first sound. It’s a sound of distress though because he can’t open the door and neither can he spot any scanner where he can use his scan card to open it.

“What?”

Derek’s rough voice cuts into his panic and he whips around to find the guy still packing up his stuff. Stiles thinks quick and shakes his head to let Derek know that it’s nothing.

He probably has a key but if Stiles lets on that he doesn’t, Derek might just leave him locked here all night just to get his revenge.

“Nothing.”

Derek narrows his eyes like he doesn’t trust a single word out of Stiles’ mouth - which, he doesn’t even know Stiles or the shit he pulls so how come he looks like Stiles’ dad and everyone else who knows not to trust Stiles - and starts walking toward the door with his backpack in hand.

He side eyes Stiles and brushes right past him to get to the door. As he lifts a tightly corded arm to the door handle, Stiles feels himself holding his breath even though he already knows what’s about to happen.

It’s like in the movies - in perfect slow motion, Derek’s fingers wrap around the door handle and he grips it tight before twisting it to the side and pulling the door toward himself except of course the door doesn’t open.

Then, things are not in slow motion anymore.

Derek snaps his head around to stare at Stiles with something akin to horror in his eyes. Stiles does not like this look on him.

“You didn’t turn the lock from outside.”

That is a sentence that makes no sense to Stiles, it doesn’t mean anything to him so why is Derek sayin--oh.

_This is an old-style lock, Stiles, so you have to be very careful with it. Your scan card works only from the outside but you need the key from inside. But if you don’t want to carry your key around make sure to turn this little lock every time you’re about to go inside. Always._

It comes floating back to him, what Erica had told him about the door. He can almost see what she’d said in a dialogue bubble over his head which bursts with a loud pop when he realises that he has essentially locked himself and Derek inside the lab.

Wait--Derek. Derek comes here almost everyday. Derek must have a key.

“I don’t carry it around with me everyday because I remember to turn the lock.”

The intensity of Derek’s glare at him could probably garner enough energy to thrust a shuttle into outer space. He tries, Stiles really does but there’s something about the way Derek looks at him with disdain in his eyes that makes his skin prickle.

He wants to lash out at this absolute stranger like he’s known him his entire life. And he doesn’t know what to do with this phantom familiarity he feels. So he does the next best thing, he turns to Derek with a glare of his own.

“And you didn’t think there could be an emergency where you might need the key?”

Derek does his flary-nose thing again, in all fairness he looks like a feral animal trying to not mawl the puny deer and eat it alive. Regardless, Stiles almost loses his shit over this. And he’s not even going to start thinking about whether it’s fear or something else that’s causing this.

“What, you mean like a stupid freshman barging in here doing a weird mating ritual dance forgetting to turn the lock and getting us both locked in? Emergency like that, you mean?”

He can only stand there with his mouth hanging open like in that one episode of Supernatural when Dean was left standing like this. Derek is still seething and all Stiles can do is stand there overwhelmed.

“It wasn’t a mating ritual, it was a One Directio--”

He jumps in place when Derek growls under his breath. And goddamit Stiles’ mother was a badass, his father is a scary man when he wants to be, he has seen multiple dead bodies and he’s lived under the roof of a Sheriff for years and never in those years, has he jumped like a startled fawn!

Fuck Derek.

“There you go with your growling again. What is it, really? Were you raised with too many dogs? Did your parents work in a zoo or something?”

Derek just stares at him with an unimpressed look on his face. Stiles huffs, _as if that can faze me, 96% of the looks I get are of the unimpressed variety._

He carefully extends his arm and places his hand on Derek’s shoulder - in that touching a spooked animal with care way. He’s expecting his hand to be chewed off or a litany of curse words he didn’t even know existed. Instead what he is gets is an absolutely murderous glare from Derek.

It is more effective than vividly described death threats he has received from actual psychopaths.

“I’m taking my hand off.”

Derek walks away toward the wall of windows and stands in front of one peering out in a very Mr. Darcy sort of way. Stiles really needs to stop thinking like this, they’re in the middle of a crisis and all he can think about is how much like a Victorian asshole-hero Derek looks with his hard eyes and his general moodiness. Oh, swoon.

“Can you do your ‘I don’t care about anyone, I’m a rich prestigious asshole’ routine later? We’re stuck in here on a Sunday and there’s a storm warning--storm, oh my god, we’re gonna die in here. We don’t have food or water and no one’s going to come for help because there’s a storm happening OH GOD, I’M GONNA DIE IN HERE, THEY WON’T EVEN FIND MY BODY TILL MONDAY AND MY DAD WILL HAVE A HEART ATTACK BECAUSE HIS ONLY SON DIED BEFORE HE GRADUATED OR GOT MARRIED, EVEN BEFORE HE EVER GOT LAID OR EVEN KIS--”

“Stiles.”

He jumps for the second time in less than five minutes because Derek is standing so close as his voice cuts through the haze of panic. Stiles doesn’t dare turn or move the slightest bit because this feels like a moment frozen in space and the slightest movement could break it.

“Ye--yeah?”

He can’t even remember what he was panicking about, Derek’s mouth is so close to his’ ear that he can feel a warm breath on his cheek.

“We’re not gonna die.”

And that’s what he was panicking about, oh great now he remembers.

“How do you know that? A majority of assault survivors say they got hurt because they thought it could never happen to them, and it did and it’s th--”

“We are not going to die because I know someone who can help.”

Now, he swings around and almost into Derek’s chest -- because the guy is standing so close and not because Stiles did it on purpose -- with narrowed eyes and a hand ready to strike.

“And you’ve been standing here this whole time instead of asking for help, why?”

The Derek with kind eyes and soft reassurances is gone the second those words get out, and is replaced by the GDRF from bio class.

“Excuse me for trying to calm you down. Won’t be trying that again.”

And with that, he walks away from Stiles with stiff shoulders and his phone cradled to his ear.

“Boyd, I need help.”

That’s all he says with a loud sigh and whoever is on the other side must’ve asked something because Derek makes a vague affirmative sound.

“Sure, I’ll wait.”

And then he hangs up, without a thank you or anything.

“You could’ve said thank you.”

No response, Derek just stands there with his back to Stiles and stares at the door like the door is going to swing open under his intense eyes. It might, Stiles concedes with a defeated sigh.

“If whoever it is doesn’t come because you were an ungrateful bastard, I will--”

“You will what?”

Stiles backs down because as much as he loves riling up the built-like-a-brickhouse types, he knows any one of them could punch them three ways into Sunday and then mix him with a raw egg in a blender and drink him down. And Derek is angry. He is absolutely seething.

“Nothing. When is the help coming?”

“He’ll be here in ten minutes. Until then, keep your damn mouth shut.”

He’s about to argue and call him colourful names but then he remembers the storm outside and shuts up. See, he can be smart when he wants to be.

“Okay.”

***

  
He is so angry right now.

Everything that could possibly go wrong, has. When he woke up this morning, he thought he was going to finally get through the most difficult section of his thesis. It felt like a productive day.

Then, Cora called and told him she’s coming to visit this Monday and will not take no for an answer. While he is happy at the prospect of seeing his sister, he also knows that she will absolutely ruin the precarious balance and peace he has tried so hard to bring to his life.

But that didn’t deter him, not today. He packed his bag and walked to the school even as the wind almost knocked him off his feet the second he stepped out of his apartment building. He powered through the stupid weather and made it to the lab - five minutes longer than it usually takes him.

It was going great, he was finally cracking down the stupid section when the door creaked open and that stupid kid fell through the door. He literally fell into the room.

Derek’s train of thought about a very important correction stuttered to a stop as Stiles stumbled in doing some kind of a dance and singing inappropriate songs.

That’s the moment he knew that today was not the day he thought it was.

And he was right. Because Stiles manages to get them locked in. On top of all his rambling and his irritating voice, he managed to get Derek locked in the lab. So, he had to call Boyd.

There is a running bet that Boyd will have to rescue Derek one of these days and Derek had snorted at the naivety of his friends at the time. They’d ignored him and set up a pool of exactly how long it will be before Derek gets himself locked in the lab and Boyd has to rescue him. Boyd and Isaac’s time is already up. The only person who can still win all that money is Erica.

Erica, who probably sent Stiles here. Erica, who knows that Stiles is the kind of idiot who will forget to turn the lock.

He is not happy.

On top of all this, Stiles won’t stop pacing the floor while nibbling on his nails and Derek would really appreciate it if Stiles would stop pacing and just stop in general. He’s been trying to not pay him any attention but there’s just something about the kid that makes him almost irresistible in that highway wreck kind of way - Derek doesn’t want to look, but he just has to.

It’s been years since Derek has had this problem, his body not listening to him when he wants to look away. There have been irritating people he has met over the years, way too many to be honest, but he has always been able to turn away from them and ignore.

Stiles is hard to look away from.

***

  
Boyd comes fifteen minutes after the call.

“Sorry man, Greenberg was at the desk with me. Couldn’t leave.”

“It’s okay.”

He’s about to shoulder his way out of the lab when he catches Boyd’s wide-eyed look at something behind him. Derek turns to find Stiles standing there scratching his neck in an embarrassed way.

Derek looks away the second he spots the blotches of red on pale skin, but Boyd’s eyes find his immediately.

“Didn’t know you had company.”

It’s voiced like a question, it surprises Derek because usually Boyd keeps his nose out of things unlike his girlfriend. Right now though, he’s looking at Derek with raised eyebrows like he’s expecting an explanation.

Before he can dismiss the boy, Stiles stumbles towards them and offers a rather shaky hand to Boyd,

“I’m Stiles.”

Derek can spot the exact second that Boyd remembers the name, a light actually goes on behind his eyes and he looks between Derek and the kid.

It’s only when Boyd has looked between Derek and Stiles with raised eyebrows like he’s asking ‘really’ that Derek understands what he is implying and NO.

“Uh, he’s uh--”

“Erica’s assistant.”

Boyd offers, his eyebrows still raised with incredulity clear on his face. He thinks Derek would have any interest in this kid? What world is he living in?

“Wait, you know Erica?”

Boyd snaps around to face Stiles, Derek just wants to run away and not have this disastrous conversation.

“She’s my girlfriend.”

Judging from the surprised gasp Stiles lets out, Derek thinks maybe he has a thing for Erica. Oh, well.

“Sorry, I didn’t--that was rude.”

Boyd just shakes his head in that easy way of his,"Nah, you’re alright."

“I was just surprised, didn’t realise that she was seeing someone.”

It irks Derek, he doesn’t know why but it does. He shouldn’t even be here having this conversation, he shouldn’t care about any of this but apparently he does.

The way Stiles turns red and splutters under Boyd’s steady gaze, it bothers Derek. But he’s not going to stand here and analyse why he is bothered by this kid stammering and sputtering after learning that Erica is seeing someone. Derek has more important things to do, namely his thesis.

“I’m gonna go.”

And he walks away, without thanking Boyd because he knows he doesn’t need to. He hears Stiles muttering something like, ‘such a bastard, thanks so much for coming to get us.’

He doesn’t let it bother him.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come on, talk to me. Tell me what you liked in this, that one line or that one scene. Tell me what you absolutely hated. Go on, then!


	7. Things we lost in the fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a short chapter because I'm feeling super-generous and wanted to give you guys something on this auspicious day of April fools!

 

Stiles braves the wind and finally gets home around 4 PM. Something Erica told him would only take a few minutes ended up becoming two hours. The wind, bad weather and Derek aside.

 

He sheds his clothes and pulls on his comfy marvel t-shirt and baggy sweats. Netflix welcomes him back with loving arms.

 

**4:13 PM from Stiles: You said Derek wouldn’t be there.**

 

He knows he should just let it go, forget about it but he’s found that the topic of Derek is hard to let go for him. And he’s angry at Erica for lying to him. Of course, it could be that she just didn’t know that Derek would be there but after talking to her boyfriend, Stiles got the impression that Erica and Derek are close enough that she would know if he was in the lab.

 

Also, he thinks that Erica is the kind of person who would lie to get her way. If she knew that Stiles would refuse to go if Derek was there, she would definitely lie to get him to go.

  
**4:15 PM from Erica: Is tht a question?**

 

**4:15 PM from Stiles: He was there.**

 

**4:17 PM from Erica: Ok…?**

 

**4:17 PM from Stiles: Did you know that he was going to be?**

 

**4:18 PM from Erica: He’s nt my slave, Stiles. I dnt alwys know whre he is**

 

**4:19 PM from Stiles: Then why did you say he wasn’t there?**

 

**4:19 PM from Stiles: To get me to go?**

 

**4:20 PM from Erica: Wld u hv said no if i hadn’t?**

 

**4:20 PM from Stiles: Seen at 4:20 PM.**

 

He resumes the episode of Broadchurch he was watching. She is not wrong in her assumption but he’s angry that she lied. They’re not close enough as friends that he can be angry at her and she is his boss so he’s going to shut up for once.

 

**4:23 PM from Erica: Stiles?**

 

**4:24 PM from Erica: Ok, mybe i shouldn’t hv lied but do u realise hw immature u both r being?**

 

She may have a point but that’s the beauty of texting, he doesn’t have to concede.

 

**4:26 PM from Erica: Stiles?**

 

David Tennant is waiting for him so he throws his phone somewhere into the sea of blankets and goes back to the murder mystery. Erica can stew for a bit.

 

***

  
Sunday is the day Stiles does nothing all day and then feels a crippling sense of worthlessness around 7 PM. This Sunday is no different.

 

Lydia, Allison and Jackson were supposed to drive up this afternoon and be here by now but Lydia had texted him this morning to say they were a bit behind schedule so they won’t be here till around 5. And she’d told him they were bringing a surprise.

 

So now he’s sat in Scott’s room vibrating in his skin because Lydia still hasn’t learn that dangling a surprise in front of a hyperactive ADD teenager is not the best idea.

 

Oh, and Scott is trying to apologise for being a dick, _t_ _rying_ being the operative word. 

 

“--didn’t mean to make you feel like I wasn’t listening, I was. I just thought that he made you so angry in bio class so maybe it’d be better if you stayed away from him. I mean he’s a big guy and you’re you, he could easily crush you into--”

 

“Can we get to the apology part, Scott?”

 

“--yeah, yeah sorry. I just--Isaac is Derek’s friend.”

 

“And you’re Isaac’s friend.”

 

“I am but I’m your best friend first, Stiles. I should always be on your side, so I’m sorry for making you think that I wasn’t.”

 

Oh god, Scott is giving him the puppy eyes and Stiles is not that heartless so he just bumps his shoulder into Scott’s.

 

“It’s okay, Scotty.”

 

Scott jumps on him in a misguided effort to hug and they end up wrestling on Scott’s bed. That’s how the others find them.

 

In their intense wrestling spirit, neither of them heard the door creaking open or noticed their friends standing there behind Scott’s RA, judging both of them. When they do notice though, they both fall off the bed in a hurry to stand up like they weren’t play-fighting like a pair of five-year olds just now.

 

Before anyone says anything, Jackson’s irritating voice breaks the silence,

 

“Good to see testicle left and testicle right are still going at it.”

 

Stiles almost lunges at him to break his stupidly sharp jaw when he spots Cora standing behind Jordan. Cora.

 

“CORA!”

 

He rushes towards her instead and forgives Jackson for his asshole-ness. The dark-haired girl rolls her eyes at him but hugs him back just as tightly.

 

“What’re you doing here?”

 

She turns to look at Lydia with an irritated face before turning back and saying, “Surprise.” in the dryest voice possible. Stiles can see Lydia glaring from the corner of his eye but Cora’s face makes him crack up. So Lydia convinced Cora to not tell Stiles she was coming because Lydia wanted to surprise him. Awww.

 

“It is! Man, I’m so happy to see you here. All of you, except for you, douchebag.”

 

“Oh, bite me, Stilinski.”

 

“I wouldn’t even if you offered me millions. Don’t wanna get all kinds of diseases from you.”

 

Jackson looks like he wants to hit Stiles but with Lydia and Cora’s collective judgy eyebrows raised at him, he backs off with just a bird directed at him.

 

“Can we at least come in after four hours of driving?”

 

Stiles lets go of Cora’s arm to step aside and motion toward the bed because Scott is busy staring at Allison and hence can’t be bothered to participate in social etiquette.

 

Jordan waves at Stiles and goes back to his room, while everyone finds a horizontal surface and settles down.

 

“So, what have you two been up to, aside from dry humping?”

 

“We weren’t--”

 

“Spare me the details, Stiles. Allison and I will need your help moving into our dorm room tomorrow so make space.”

 

“Uh, I have a packed schedule on Mondays, Lyd--”

 

“Do I look like I care?”

 

He shuts up quickly after that and squeezes himself into the tiny space on the sofa next to Cora. She sighs deeply like she's burdened with the weight of the world but then moves about to lean her head on his shoulder. Stiles feels like something has finally fallen into place.

 

Cora Hale is the sister he always wanted but his mom couldn’t give him.

 

***

  
**4:23 PM from Cora: ‘m hre, loser**

 

Derek steps off the elliptical trainer to catch his breath before picking up his phone off the machine and opening his sister’s text.

 

**4:25 PM from Derek: So you’ll spell out mean names and curses but not the important things?**

 

He wipes off the sweat with a towel while making his way toward the door. Sundays are the best days for an intense workout because he doesn’t have to worry about leaving the loft all day.

 

**4:23 PM from Cora: curses r d imp. wrds**

 

He pulls open the heavy door with a grunt to find his baby sister leaning against the wall with a smile on her face.

 

“Did you see the last one I sent?”

 

“I can feel my blood pressure spiking.”

 

“Good.”

 

She whacks into his sweaty body with her limbs wrapped around him like an octopus. Like she used to when she was a child.

 

He sighs and wraps his arms around her too, the warmth of family is something Derek doesn’t get very often so he forgets how comforting it is. They stand there just inside the door for a good five minutes.

 

“I thought you said you were coming around 2.”

 

“I thought you said you didn’t live like a windower in mourning.”

 

And this is why he doesn't ask his sisters to visit often, five steps into the loft and she has already started nitpicking at his thin veil of patience.

 

“This is why I don’t ask you over.”

 

“Oh you mean it’s not about us finding out how many students you're terrorising on a daily basis? Or how close you are to becoming an actual cave man who talks only in grunts and grumbles?”

 

Those words sound so familiar, they’re easily something Stiles could’ve said about him. That realisation unsettles him.

 

Not the fact that Stiles would say something like this about him. No, the realisation that Derek is thinking about Stiles right now - he is seeing his sister after five months and he is thinking about some irritating, stupid freshman because what Cora has just said sounds like something the kid would say.

 

Fuck.

 

“Uh, why do you look like you’re having an aneurysm?”

 

He turns around to her with a mask of indifference on his face, she doesn’t need to know that her brother is contemplating suicide and possibly homicide.

 

“Nothing. So, what do you want for dinner?”

 

She just gives him an unimpressed face like she’s reconsidering even talking to Derek.

 

“You have to ask?”

 

He shakes his head and silently goes to get his shirt. Cora always wants pizza from the tiny Italian place two blocks down from Derek's loft. He has seen her put away an entire pizza by herself for breakfast. And then, she’d gone and bought another one for lunch and dinner. He's never known anyone who can eat one food for every meal for four days straight with a manic grin on their face.

 

“What took you so long? If Mrs. Benedetto closes, I swear I’ll stab you in the face.”

 

He just rolls his eyes at his baby sister, not even fazed by the blatant violent tendencies because he’s spent his formative years in a house with three Hale women and he knows and expects such violence.

 

“Well then you should’ve come earlier, which how did you get here, I thought you were driving down which you haven’t so.”

 

“Was there a question in there?”

 

“Just answer.”

 

“No, I didn’t drive. A few friends were driving down so I hitched a ride with them.”

 

That gets his attention, he may not visit them often enough and go on and on about how irritating they are but he’s fiercely protective of his sisters.

 

“What friends?”

 

Cora stops walking and turns to look at him with narrowed eyes, “Don’t you dare do this protective alpha bullshit when you haven’t even visited for Christmas in years.”

 

“Cora--”

 

“No, Derek. Whatever it is that you and mom and Laura all know but won’t tell me, I don’t care. All I care about is that my older brother doesn't come home for the holidays. So don’t even try to go all cave man on me.”

 

“I didn’t know you--”

 

“Minded? Just because we’re not all ‘lovey-dovey and talk about our feelings’ family doesn’t mean I don't miss you. But it's fine, I’ve made my peace with it. Just don’t go poking into my business when you don't want me poking into yours.”

 

When she turns around and starts walking, an abrupt thought sinks in. He can feel his body being weighed down by the burden of it.

 

His baby sister is not a baby anymore. She has grown up enough to know what an asshole he is. He finds himself frozen on the spot while Cora keeps walking without looking back.

 

Derek wasn’t there when his sister was growing up. He missed her childhood.

 

***

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come talk to me, please. Tell me about the tiny things in this that you liked, that one scene you thought was funny or that thing you absolutely hated. Come on!


	8. Things I thought I knew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your nice comments. Interacting with you guys about small plot points, characterization etc. is so so nice, it keeps me going. It reminds me that actual people out there are reading what I'm writing so keep doing it, yeah?
> 
> Alright, this is the chapter I've been waiting to share with you guys. This is one of my absolute favorites. I hope you all like it too. Man, I'm so excited to finally share this!
> 
> Note - There's a conversation in this chapter that's in another language. I have the complete translation of this text conversation in the end notes, you will know when the conversation comes up. I'll suggest reading the chapter and checking the translation only when you get to it, to avoid spoiling.

 

“Stiles, why are you reading about laws against homosexuality in early twentieth century Germany?”

“Uh--”

Lydia just raises her perfectly plucked eyebrow at him, a mask of impatience and indifference in place but he can clearly read the curiosity in her eyes.

Something in him makes him want to lie. He can tell her, he can easily tell her why he is reading what he’s reading but Lydia has a terrible habit of poking and prodding if she thinks she’s onto something. And Stiles doesn’t need her getting ideas.

“I was reading that for a class.”

“A class?”

“Yeah.”

“What class? I don’t see a law class in your schedule.”

_Godammit, why doesn’t she know when to quit?_

“It’s uh--it’s for a uh--”

She narrows her eyes in that way that really scares him, she looks like she can see right through him and is only doing him a favour by asking before she reaches her own conclusions.

“It was just idle research.”

“Normally you look at weird mythology stuff, this is a new interest.”

“It is.”

She pouts, to anyone else it would look like a beautiful woman making a seductive face but Stiles knows what it really means. She is trying to think of an alternative explanation for his actions. And if she doesn’t find one, she will file this little tidbit of information for later review. At the first chance of revelation, she will pounce.

“Okay.”

He turns away from her prying eyes and takes a deep breath. The past week of silence and serenity seems like a dream now, because this is how the rest of his time at Berkeley is going to be.

Lydia and Allison are here, Scott will become her slave again and Stiles will only see him on the days when Allison is busy with Lydia or is visiting her parents. The rest of the days, Lydia will command his undivided attention and Stiles will obviously give it to her because when has he not?

Jackson will be in the background making faces at him and trying to impress Lydia. In some ways, the familiarity seems comfortable. But in others, Stiles wonders if college is supposed to be like this. Surrounded by high school friends and feeling like he’s still in Beacon Hills.

“Stiles?”

He snaps around at her voice - in his deep introspection, he forgot that Lydia was here.

“Yeah?”

“You are allowed to make new friends, you know that, right?”

He just stands there and gapes at her, is she some kind of witch or something? He’s been trying to figure out her weird psychic abilities for years now.

“How’d you--did Scott--what?”

“Scott and you had the same classes but now you don’t. And you looked like you were lost in another world when we were at Scott’s. I’m guessing that you’re having second thoughts about us all attending Berkeley.”

“No, it’s not--”

“It’s normal, Stiles, I get it. I mean, we thought it’d be a good idea to stick together and go to the same college but I always wondered if we’d miss out on making new friends.”

“Yeah. I didn’t want to say it because Scott wouldn’t get it but how are we ever going to make new friends if we’re still in Beacon Hills in our minds?”

“Tell you what, let’s try to be a bit more polite in our classes, the two of us.”

He can’t help the snort, she hits him on his arm but she’s smiling too. The two of them, polite. Yeah, that’s happening.

“I said _'_ _try'_ , Stiles. Who knows, maybe we’ll meet someone who can fit into our little group.”

“Okay.”

He doubts that anyone could get the approval of their slightly deranged group and who would want to be a part of their slightly deranged group but stranger things have happened. Jackson got into Berkeley, for example.

***  
Erica and Cora are sitting across from him and he can feel the intensity of their collective glare directed at him but he keeps his head down. 

“Did he, now? I bet Laura would love to know that.”

He sighs but keeps staring at his paper on the table, they’re both trying to get a reaction out of him but he’s taking the moral high-ground. Isaac is mysteriously absent from their traditional Monday morning breakfast at the cafe across from Derek’s place. He’d be able to distract Cora one way or another, take the heat off Derek.

“I bet, she’s been texting me since the semester started, wants leverage on Derek.”

He clenches his fist under the table, if they weren’t in public and if he didn’t think Cora would report back to their mother, he’d be baring his teeth at all of them right about now. And Erica would shut up instantly rather than testing his patience. But they are in public and Cora will tell mom if Derek so much as growls at any of them.

“And I have been such a stellar friend that I didn’t tell her anything.”

She says as if she’s done Derek a favour. They both know that Erica would never betray Derek’s trust by telling Laura something Derek doesn’t want her to know.

“So, what poor freshman got caught up in his serial killer tendencies this time?”

He looks up at that, he has to. He knows Erica will tell Cora about Stiles and for some reason, he really doesn’t want his sister to find out.

“Oh god, he’s so adorable.”

 _No, he’s not_ , Derek thinks.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong he’s an asshole.”

_That he is._

“But he doesn’t take crap from anyone, not even Derek. You know what he said about Derek the other day?”

He feels himself subconsciously leaning toward her, it’s the sort of thing when he realises with a jolt that he’s doing something without realising that he’s doing it and now that he does know, he wants to not know. Yeah, that’s the psych nerd part of him shining through.

“So they’re in the same Bio class and he sits behind your brother. This is that first year year class Derek’s been fussing about for weeks, by the way. Anyway, this guy was calling your brother ‘grumpy and downright rude fuckboy’ before he knew his name.”

They’re all laughing around him, even Boyd is laughing next to him. He can hear Cora cackling, she’s drawing attention from other customers. Erica is sitting across from him, smiling smugly directly at Derek. Boy’s deep voice rumbles close to his ear.

While all this goes on around him, Derek sits frozen at the table.

“Der?”

He blinks out of the stupor he was apparently in. He can feel the sounds of the cafe trickling back in through his senses, but all he can surely feel is a searing heat in his chest.

“Are you okay?”

Boyd curls a hand around his shoulder, it’s supposed to be a comforting gesture but it only makes him want to yank his hand away. He doesn’t.

“Don’t tell me you’re surprised. I mean, come on, Derek, he wasn’t wrong.”

Erica snorts at Cora’s blunt statement, she tries to cover it up with a cough but they all know what she’s doing. 

“What is a ‘fuckboy’?” 

That starts the laughing spree again, “Oh fuck, I can’t--”

He feels so out of place, they all know something he doesn’t and they’re all laughing at something Stiles said about him. He almost stands up and walks away, this feeling of being targeted brings back memories he’d rather not revisit.

“It means someone whose levels of assholeness are astronomical.”

Cora is still laughing, with her head down on her arms on top of the table, she looks like she’s just vibrating but when she finally looks up, Derek can see her wiping away water from her eyes.

He’s going to kill Stiles. He’s going to find out where he is, he’s going to hunt him down and drag him to that empty lot behind the deserted warehouse and he’s going to--

Ting.

His homicidal thoughts get interrupted by Cora’s phone signalling a text. She takes a deep breath before picking it up. Erica and Boyd are both sipping at their drinks and suspiciously avoid his eyes when he looks at them.

“Hmm.”

“Who’s it?”

“A friend.”

Derek narrows his eyes at her to continue but she doesn’t. This is the second time he has asked her about her friends and she has refused to answer. His instinct is to snatch her phone but he knows that’s the fastest way to get her to shut him down completely.

“A friend here?”

“Hmmm.”

Her fingers are flying on the keypad for a quick second before she drops the phone back on the table. Derek can’t even imagine typing that fast.

“How do you know anyone here?”

“I know you.”

He can’t help but roll his eyes at that, she’s not even trying anymore.

“I’m your brother.”

“Are you sure?”

Derek can feel the air rushing out of him, it’s like Cora has just slapped him across his face.

“Cora, let’s go see if Isaac is at the office already. I know you wanna see him.”

He sits there staring at Erica’s empty seat as she coaxes Cora to stand up. He feels that weird tingly feeling in his nose that always comes before he cries himself to sleep some nights.

“Cadevs”, Cora replies dryly and walks away. Derek finds himself thinking about the stupidest thing - this new language, this slang that everyone knows but him. How can he even communicate with his sister if she speaks a whole other language?

“You okay, man?”

He nods at Boyd and starts collecting his papers. He’s got class in fifteen minutes, might as well get going now.

“Don’t let it get to you, Derek. She’s just at that age.”

He stands up with his bag in hand to find Boyd looking at him with worried eyes.

“What age is that?”

“Teenage. High school.”

“No, she’s pissed at me because I’ve been a terrible brother. And she’s right.”

With that, he walks away from Boyd and out of the cafe. He doesn’t need Boyd reassuring him or Erica taking Cora away, he already knows he’s been an asshole.

***

Erica is rambling on about some guy that Isaac has been getting close to, Cora couldn’t care less about any of it because she’s got more important things to worry about.

“--cute little puppy he is, no wonder Isaac went head over heels--”

“Has he talked to anyone?”

Erica stops mid-sentence and turns to look at her, Cora knows she’s looking but she doesn’t stop walking. Stopping would mean looking at Erica, acknowledging that she is emotionally involved in the question she has just asked. She blames Derek for not talking about his troubles with anyone but she’s no different. If something happened to her, she’d take a lot of poking and prodding before she shared anything with anyone.

It’s not so much as being emotionally unavailable as being unwilling. That’s just how their family works, mom never explicitly told any of them to not come to her with their problems. It just somehow worked out this way, Laura, Derek and she are all the same way when it comes down to sharing what’s really important.

Laura talks a lot, shares a lot of superficial information to distract from the real things. She hardly ever talks about how hard separating from Harvey has hit her.

Derek is the opposite of Laura, he never talks about himself unless mom forces him. And to avoid mom’s pestering, he doesn’t visit anymore. Cora knows something happened to him when he left Beacon Hills after high-school, but she was too young to remember any details.

She, unlike her older siblings, found someone who listens to her. Not that she discloses everything, because that would make her vulnerable, but whatever she does share with Stiles, she knows it’s safe.

Their mom is similar in this way, she never stops no matter what happens. She’s like a wall, and they’ve all grown up watching her face up to challenges no one else was brave enough for. And watching her suppress her grief and pain after dad died, Laura and Derek both somehow decided that they’d be silent heroes too.

For years, Cora couldn’t understand just why their family never talked about problems in life. For years, she thought Laura and Derek never faced any problems, that they had perfect lives because she never heard them complain.

That was until she saw Laura drowning herself in a bottle of whiskey and mumbling about her troubles with Harvey, how hard it had all hit her. It was then that Cora realised how much they had all failed each other as family.

Just because mom was a strong woman who steamrolled through losing a husband and raising three kids on her own, did not give her the right to teach her children to stay silent when they were hurting. Just because she was living in a cruel world, she did not have the right to force them to grow up when they should’ve been complaining to their mother about childish things.

It’s not her fault, Cora gets it, but she did make them who they are today.

Laura, who’d rather pass out drunk drenched in her own tears than talk to anyone about her separation from her husband.

Derek, who was hurt so bad that he hasn’t smiled, really smiled, in years. Who won’t share his pain with anyone, who won’t come home for Christmas because Uncle Peter says it reminds him of a cruel time.

Cora, who’s the youngest of them all and doesn’t really know anyone’s story because no one will tell her even if she asks. Who is stuck in a world she doesn’t understand but can’t ask for help because the Hales are not weak. The Hales never ask for help.

“What?”

She startles at Erica’s voice. It happens sometimes when she gets stuck in her own head for too long. It’s another thing that Stiles understands because he gets caught up in his own mind even more than Cora. But for a while now, they’ve kept each other anchored.

“Derek. Has he talked to anyone?”

Her eyes shine in recognition, she knows what Cora is asking but she still feigns ignorance. Maybe this is why Derek and she are close.

“About?”

Well, two can play at this game. After 18 years in the Hale household, Cora can probably find a job as an investigator.

“About why he won’t come back home for the holidays. Or why he hasn’t been with anyone since he started at Berkeley. Or why he only has three friends here? Do you want me to go on?”

Erica sighs and starts walking again. She looks like she’s mulling something over in her head, that’s always a good sign.

“He doesn’t talk much, you know your brother.”

“I’m not sure I do.”

She hasn’t said it for sympathy, she’s said it because it’s true. They didn’t live in the same house long enough for her to really know him. And once he left Beacon Hills, Cora wasn’t sure she ever knew her brother at all.

“Cora, don’t say tha--”

“Erica, I know you’re his friend but please? I just want to know.”

“No. He doesn’t talk about that.”

And that’s all that’s said between them. Before they know it, they’re standing outside the Employment Centre and Isaac is lunging towards Cora with the biggest smile on his face.

She returns the smile.

***

Derek is not proud of it but he really needed to know, okay? He needed to know what friends gave his sister a ride from Beacon Hills to Berkeley and what kids does she know in a college. He needed to know what kind of people she texts in the middle of breakfast.

And now he is more confused than ever. He’s got Cora’s phone in his hand as he stares down at the screen at something that makes absolutely no sense.

 **09:23 AM from Stiles:** Cá wil 2?

 **09:23 AM from Cora:** Cafe

 **09:24 AM from Stiles:** Pizza, an8?

 **09:25 AM from Cora:** ag íoc?

 **09:25 AM from Stiles:** Sea

 **09:28 AM from Cora:** fmt

 **09:29 AM from Stiles:** sgf

His little sister was texting Stiles this morning while she was sitting across from Derek laughing at what that asshole had said about her brother.

“This doesn’t make any sense.”, he murmurs for the hundredth time.

Why is Stiles texting his sister? How the fuck does that kid know his baby sister? Is it even the same Stiles?

_Oh come on, Derek, how many Stileses do we know?_

Fair point. It has to be him. But why is he texting Cora?

Most of all though, _what_ is he texting Cora? What the fuck is this gibberish he’s staring at?

“It’s Irish”, Erica doesn’t even blink at him when he shows her the photo he’d taken of Cora’s texts with Stiles. She just rolls her eyes like she can’t believe what an idiot Derek is and goes back to reading her magazine.

He can’t even move though, he’s frozen.

“Irish?”

Erica looks up from the magazine and with the straightest face ever says, “Irish, motherfucker! Do you speak it?”

Derek must be in shock because he doesn’t even return Erica’s high-five at her perfect comic timing on that one. Yeah, he’s definitely in shock.

“It’s a language, Derek.”

“Stiles is texting Cora in Irish?”

Erica just sighs and turns back to her magazine.

“He speaks Irish?”

Derek can feel a shudder run down his spine at the thought. Stiles speaking Irish, the language Derek’s dad loved and cherished till his last day. The one thing that his dad always held onto from his Irish roots.

Stiles speaks Irish.

Stiles speaks Irish with Cora.

Heat crawls across his chest at the thought, searing wet heat.

“Well, you see usually to converse in a language, both people should know it, yes?”

It’s a testament to how lost he is in his own head that he doesn’t ever berate Erica for her blatant snark.

“Derek?”

“Why do you think he’s texting Cora?”

Erica puts her magazine down for the first time since Derek walked into the Employment Centre. He’d taken a photo of Cora’s phone and pretty much ran to Erica’s work.

“I don’t know, they’re probably friends.”

“How? How does he even know her?”

“Well, you can just ask her. You know that, right?”

“She won’t answer me.”

“Have you tried?”

“She told me to take my alpha bullshit somewhere else.”

“Oh.”

Yeah. So now he’s stuck with knowing something that he doesn’t understand but wants to. Cora will never answer him and he’s not going to ask Stiles. Never.

“Do you want me to ask Stiles?”

He wants to say yes. Erica is the perfect person to ask Stiles, she’s his boss so he won’t say no to her.

“Will you?”

“If you’re this paranoid about it, then sure.”

He sighs in relief and kisses her on the cheek before saying goodbye and rushing toward his class. His bio class.

***

Scott is late to class. The professor has already started the lecture and Scott is nowhere to be seen.

Stiles sighs in defeat, accepting his fate. Derek is sitting in front of him and already taking notes. Stiles looks around to find the same people in their same seats - the pair of frat boys who drink Red bull every class, the girl who draws dragons and the three girls behind Stiles who talk about tumblr memes in hushed whispers.

In the midst of all this, Stiles must brave this class alone with Derek sitting in front of him.

That’s a strange thought because now he kinda knows Derek. Between last class and now, he has talked to Derek twice and he’s not just a head of dark hair to Stiles now.

Speaking of last class, he can also feel a few people staring at him. He turns around to find someone pointing to Derek but they pull their hand back and look away when they see Stiles looking. People remember the fight, great.

Just as he’s about to sign into tumblr on his phone, the door creaks open and in walks Scott. He smiles his stupid crooked jaw smile at the professor who actually smiles back and points to the seats.

Stiles is waving madly at his best friend, of course he came to save Stiles from boredom when he realises that Derek is making noises again. Well, this time Stiles is ready to respond immediately.

As Scott stumbles his way to their seat, Stiles leans forward to bring his mouth close to Derek’s ear,“So were you born a fuckboy or did you have to work at it?”

Just as he’s settling back into his seat, he hears a sharp intake of breath and sees Derek’s shoulders stiffen.

_Good._

“Stiles!”

He smiles at Scott (okay, so he’s really smiling because Derek looks like he’s frozen in place but he’s also happy that Scott is here) and throws him a wink.

“What took you so long? And if it’s to do with Allison, I don’t want to know.”

Scott flushes at his words which is usually a good indication that Stiles is approaching dangerous territory.

“Yeah, Allison wanted to try something.”

“Please stop. I can feel my insides revolting--”

“She wants to take a break.”

“What?”

He shrieks loud enough that most of the students turn around to glare at him. He makes a ‘I’m sorry, my fault, look away please’ face. He realises with a sick sort of thrill though that Derek didn’t turn around. The one guy that apparently has a problem with Stiles even breathing didn’t just turn around but hey, they’ve got important stuff to take care of.

“What happened?”

“She thinks we need some space.”

“Space?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s a good thing, I think. I mean everything has changed so much after we came here, right? So she’s probably trying to get used to everything on her own and when she does figure it out, then you guys can continue.”

Scott looks like he’s understood about half the things Stiles has said. He often looks like this.

“But why does she want to do it alone? I want to be with her, she doesn’t have to do it on her own--”

“Because sometimes there are things people have to do on their own, buddy.”

“But why?”

“Hey Scott, remember that talk we had about you two not being too dependent on each other? This is one of those times. Allison is dating you, yes, but that doesn’t mean she’s not her own person anymore or that she can’t have her own battles.”

“I get that, Stiles, but I want to be there for her through her battles.”

“Then give her what she’s asking for.”

Stiles feels like a clinical psychologist giving advice to a client for $100 an hour. He wishes.

“But what if she wants to break up later?”

“Then you’ll talk about it and if she does want to leave then you’ll let her go.”

Stiles turns to look at his best friend when Scott doesn’t protest or make any noises like a dying whale. This is very suspicious, Stiles has just talked about the possibility of Allison leaving him and Scott isn’t on the floor crying, how can this be?

“Scott?”

He takes a few seconds to look at Stiles and when he does his, his eyes are full of guilt like a puppy who has eaten the sofa cushion. Stiles decides to give him time, he turns around and looks at the slides on the big screen at the front of the class.

“I don’t think I’m in love with her anymore.”

Stiles snaps his around so fast he swears he can see stars, but that’s not important right now. What’s important is that Scott might finally be admitting something Stiles thinks he’s known for months.

“That’s okay, Scott.”

“I know but I just--I didn’t want to believe it.”

“And that’s fine, you guys have been together for so long, it’s only natural to feel like this.”

“Yeah.”

He turns around and faces the professor, Scott probably needs time to accept what he’s just told Stiles. Not that Stiles would know - absolutely no relationships to his name, not even a try - but it must be hard to leave a part of yourself behind like this. And Allison is a part of Scott, and he is hers because those two were each other’s crutches for so long.

There were times when Stiles didn’t like it, seeing his best friend slowly replacing him with a girl he just met or going on and on about Allison or acting like she was his only family, but he got over it. When he realised just how much they meant to each other, he got over it.

“I know it’s a cliche but you’ll be fine, buddy. You can be by yourself for a while, if you want or you can try with someone else. There will be so many college girls wanting to be with you.”

Scott doesn’t look like he believes Stiles, he has always had a problem with grasping the concept of how cute he is. Stiles is pretty sure the dragon-drawing girl likes Scott.

“Stiles, will you stop? Why would anyo--”

“You're an alpha, okay? You are the apex predator. Everyone wants you, you're like the hot girl that every guy wants.”

“I'm a hot girl?”

“You are the hottest girl.”

“... I'm a hot girl!”

The dragon girl turns around to face Scott and whispers, “Yes, you are.” Then, she turns back to her half-finished toothless and Scott sits there in shock turning redder by the second.

All is good with life, Stiles thinks. Oh, how wrong.

***

It’s taking all his willpower but he stays quiet. Stiles talks all through the class, gives relationship advice to his friend but Derek stays quiet.

_So were you born a fuckboy or did you have to work at it?_

That’s what Stiles had whispered to him, his mouth so close that Derek could feel his breath on his ear. He should’ve turned around and wringed his neck but instead, he had frozen on the spot. Could feel the blood rushing through his veins in those few seconds after Stiles had pulled away and Derek could no longer feel Stiles’ warmth across his back.

He packs up his stuff in a hurry, students around him are packing up and leaving and given the last time Derek was in a similar situation in this class, he doesn’t want to be left here with Stiles.

“You know what actually worries me the most?”

Derek keeps his head down and zips up his bag as Stiles and his friend stay chatting.

“If you say Allison, I'm gonna punch you in the head.”

That’s the last thing Derek hears before he picks up his stuff and walks out of the class. As much as he wants to corner Stiles and ask him how he knows Cora, the way his body is reacting to the thought of cornering Stiles, he knows it’s not a good idea.

“Derek!”

He swings around to face Cora standing outside the classroom, a storm rolling in her eyes.

_She knows._

“You are such a bastard!”

He doesn’t even get the chance to speak as Stiles stumbles out of the classroom and almost kisses the floor between Cora and Derek.

Fuck.

“Cora?”

Her eyes widen in shock as she stares at Stiles before snapping her eyes to Derek. He can see her jaw clenched and her hand fisted by her side. Stiles is still standing between them, trying to regain his balance while Derek’s life tilts on its axis.

“You followed him to his class?”

It’s too quick, he never stands a chance to stop her at all as she takes a swing at him and hits him square on the jaw. He can feel a sharp pain blooming on his face but so much happens in the span of a few seconds that he doesn’t even try to touch his face.

Stiles gasps in shock when Cora punches Derek, Stiles’ friend walks out of the class at the exact moment that Cora is about to punch him again but Stiles comes up behind her and pulls her hand away. Derek stands frozen in the hallway as students keep walking towards their classes, only a few stop to watch a girl punch a guy twice her size.

Derek can see someone recording on their phone. One glare from him and the guy sputters and mumbles before turning his phone off and running away.

“Cora, what the fuck, man?”

Stiles is holding his sister from behind while she is panting from the effort of punching Derek. This is a situation he could never have dreamt of.

“He is an asshole!”

“Okay yes, I know that but it’s not enough to resort to violence for.”

Out of everything that has happened in the last five minutes, this is what irritates Derek the most. This kid has been texting his sister, he is holding his sister right now and on top of it all, he is joking about all of this.

“Get away from her!”

That gets everyone’s attention. Derek can feel three sets of eyes glaring holes into him.

“Are you fucking serious? I just saved you from her, did you not see that? This one throws a mean punch, okay, I know this. You should be thanking me.”

Cora makes an irritated noise as she struggles to get out of Stiles’ grip. And she actually snorts when Stiles finishes talking.

“Don’t waste your breath on him, Stiles.”

As much as he hasn’t been a good brother, hasn’t gone home to see Cora for the holidays or hasn’t tried very hard to stay connected, seeing his sister taking a stranger’s side over him feels like a knife through the heart. They’re blood, dammit.

“I won’t because I know he has a vocabulary smaller than Lydia’s dog.”

Is it wrong that Derek wants to punch this kid into silence? Maybe illegal, but he’s sure that even the police officers will understand why Derek did it after five minutes in Stiles’ company.

“Cora, just let me--”

“Let you what? Defend yourself? Explain? Explain why you looked through my phone without my permission and then put Erica up to asking me how I know Stiles and what were the texts and if I’m banging him?”

Derek’s eyes widen in shock at her last words because he never told Erica he wanted to know if there was something between Stiles and Cora. Which is not to say that he doesn’t want to know, but he’d never pry into anyone’s private life like that.

Turns out, he’s not the only one who is shocked because Stiles is looking at him with wide eyes as he lets go of Cora and steps back.

“What?”

Derek has heard Stiles talk so many times now, majority of them unwillingly. He’s heard Stiles sound angry, and irritated, and happy and excited but he’s never heard him sound like this. His voice breaks over the one word he says.

“Yeah, he’s my dick of a brother. The one who won’t come home for the holidays but thinks it’s his right to ask me questions and to look through my phone when I refuse to answer.”

Stiles is staring at Derek like he’s seeing him for the first time, it doesn’t make any sense--

“Derek Hale?”

Hundreds of people have said his name throughout life, but no one has ever sounded so broken with his name on their lips. No one has ever sounded like his name is something fragile, some well kept secret for years that has finally come out. Derek can’t even begin to understand what has just happened.

He can’t even bring himself to nod.

“Stiles? Are you okay?”

“Ye--yeah, I--”

“Cora, listen to me, I am your brother and I was worried--”

“Tell me you’re joking.”

He sighs in defeat, doesn’t know how he can convince his own sister that he was just protecting her.

“You told me you had friends here, just think of how that sounded to me. That you were friends with college kids.”

“Why can’t I be? I’m going to attend here next year, what’s so shocking about it?”

“It’s not that, I wanted to know who you were so close to and then I saw your texts whic--”

“Saw my texts?! Went through my phone looking for them, you mean.”

“Fine, I did but only because I wanted to see if these friends of yours weren’t getting you into trouble.”

“Because that’s what you’ve been doing for years for me, right? Looking out for me?”

“Cora, let’s not do this here in front of strangers--”

“Stiles is not a stranger.”

He’s out of things to say. He has no words to express the agony coursing through him right now because what Cora left unsaid in that sentence is _Stiles is not a stranger, you are._

He doesn’t even know what he can say in answer to that, but in the end he doesn’t have to say anything because Stiles starts walking away, his eyes are fixed on the ground and he’s walking like he doesn’t know where he’s going.

“Genim, wait--”

“I’ll see you later, Cora.”

He walks away with his best friend in tow leaving Derek and Cora standing there like strangers who don’t know how to start a conversation.

“Are you happy now?”

“Cora--”

“Don’t.”

She walks away from him. He can’t help but think that this is how she must have felt when her older brother packed up and left home to never come back.

It’s funny that he wants to ask her how she handled the pain he can feel digging into his bones right now but can’t because he’s the one who pushed her away all these years and now she’s the one pushing him. He just doesn’t know how to ask her to not do what he’s been doing to her for years.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:  
> 09:23 AM from Stiles: where are you?  
> 09:23 AM from Cora: cafe  
> 09:24 AM from Stiles: pizza, tonight?  
> 09:25 AM from Cora: you paying?  
> 09:25 AM from Stiles: yup  
> 09:28 AM from Cora: see you then  
> 09:29 AM from Stiles: bye for now
> 
>  
> 
> *This happened because I take Irish language at college, and we recently learnt slang in class and I knew Stiles would totally text in Irish slang.*
> 
> Come talk to me, I wanna know everything you liked and everything you hated. Let's do this!


	9. I'm running over thoughts that make my feet hurt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm visiting my parents and the internet is not the best here so I may not post anything for another two weeks but I'll try. Anyway, here's a main part of the backstory you've told me you wanted to know. Go forth!

“Stiles, man--”

“Scott, I need to be alone for a while.”

“What? Why?” 

“Were you not there just now?”

“Oh. It was so weird, right? I had no idea that the guy from bio class would be the Derek Hale. People back home always talk about him like he’s dead or something, instead he’s here in Berkeley--”

“Not helping, Scott.”

“--studying. Right. You wanna go to my room and play FIFA?”

“I feel like sleeping. I’ll see you later?”

“But Stiles it’s not even 5 PM yet.”

“I’m knackered, buddy. See you tomorrow.”

“Okay…”

On days like these, Stiles is so grateful that Scott is not super perceptive like Lydia or curious like Allison. If it was one of them, they’d already have figured out what Scott will probably take days if not weeks to realise.

Derek Hale.

The guy Stiles has been fighting with is Derek Hale. 

Cora’s brother who Stiles has seen childhood pictures of and asked Cora and Laura repeatedly about. 

The boy who held him while he trembled on the forest floor, soaked in rain the day his dad told him mom was gone. 

***

“Cora, please just list--”

“Why should I? You did what you wanted to do without asking me so why should I listen to you?”

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s not enough, Derek.”

“What do you want me to say? I’m a bad brother, I know that. I should’ve come home more often, I shouldn’t have ran from my demons but I did because I’m weak.” 

She stops stuffing her clothes into her tiny overnight bag she brought. 

“You were just a kid when it happened and we didn’t tell you but I should’ve had the courage to tell you, anyway.”

“I don’t want to force you, Derek. I never wanted to force you but it’s started to feel like I don’t have a brother at all because I hardly ever see you.” 

“I know.” 

“I’m sorry I punched you but I was just so angry. You don’t come home ever, you don’t write unless I badger you with texts and when I finally came up to see you, you go through my phone and insult my friends.”

They sit in complete silence for a minute. 

“I was just looking out for you. I know Stiles from class and when I saw his texts on your phone, I was surprised that you’d know him--”

“We went to school together, Derek.”

What?

“School?”

“Yeah, Beacon Hills High. He was a year ahead of me but he--”

“Stiles is from Beacon Hills?”

“Don’t you remember him? He used to be called Genim.”

Derek shakes his head, he’s sure he has never met Stiles before last week in bio class. Beacon Hills is a small town, and if Stiles is from there they would’ve walked past each other at some point.

That thought starts something in him, he can feel a prickling of needles on his skin. His fingers itch as if to touch and he’s not sure what it is he wants to touch. 

He’d have remembered Stiles. He doesn’t know how or why, but his brain says that he would have remembered Stiles if he’d ever seen him. 

“I don’t.”

Cora looks disappointed with his answer, he’s not sure why it should matter to her -- unless, “Are you dating him?”

He feels the moment stand still around him, doesn’t understand why this is such an important question.

She just shakes her head and gets off the bed to walk away from him. He knows she’s angry at him again but is it too bad if he really wants to know. Just before Cora leaves the room, she whispers,

“I really thought you’d remember.”

***

07:23 PM from Cora: Pizza?

He checks his phone and tosses it away after seeing Cora’s message. She might not know the whole story about how Stiles knew Derek but she probably remembers all those times when he’d ask her if her brother was coming home this Christmas.

All he had ever told her was that Derek had helped once years ago and he wanted to say thanks. She knows about his mom and she’s smart enough to have figured out that it was probably around that time that Stiles and Derek met because Derek had left Beacon Hills sometime after that. 

He still remembers the day he’d found out it was Derek Hale who’d helped him on the hardest night of his life. 

*****  
His dad had sent him with a box of cookies to take to Mrs. Hale as a thank you for all that she’d done to help on the latest case the Sheriff’s department was working on. 

Stiles had tentatively walked up to the huge house with the box of cookies clutched in his hands. Two seconds after ringing the bell, the door was opened and Stiles got a handful of siberian-husky before he could even step back.

“Peter, get back in here! Where are you runn-- oh.” 

Stiles was sprawled on the porch of the Hale house while the Mayor tried to get a giant husky off him. That was how he met Talia Hale.

“I’m so sorry about the dog. Peter is not the best at social etiquette. Let me brush those hair off you.”

“Oh, thanks.”

He’d stood there in the hallway, floors and walls covered with dark wood and intricate celtic design running up and down the walls. He’d turned around, out of pure curiosity to track the knots and found himself looking at family photos. 

The second he’d laid eyes on a family portrait, he’d recognised his face. The boy who kept him alive last year. 

He was in almost all the photos, smiling in all of them. His eyes were a different colour in every photo, but they looked happy unlike that day in the forest. That day, they’d looked sad. Or maybe that was just what Stiles saw through his own wet eyes.

“That’s my son, Derek.”

He’d jumped a foot into the air at the voice. When he turned, Talia Hale was standing there with a brush in hand and a smile on her face,

“Do you know him?”

In that moment, Stiles hadn’t been able to shake his head no because for some reason it felt like he did know the boy in the photos. For some reason, it felt like the few moments he spent crying into this stranger’s shirt tied them together into a connection somehow. Stiles felt like he’d seen the boy bare, seen more of him than anyone else had.

“I do.”

“Oh? You look a bit younger than him.”

He’d simply nodded his head yes. 

*****

07:25 PM from Cora: Brónsies faoi Derek 

He takes a deep breath before getting out of bed. She’s just going to keep texting if Stiles doesn’t answer her.

07:25 PM from Cora: wil 2 cgl?

07:26 PM from Stiles: cgl

07:26 PM from Cora: ach cgl?

07:27 PM from Stiles: Coraaaaa

07:27 PM from Cora: Cad?

07:29 PM from Stiles: Fine, pizza.

07:29 PM from Cora: YAASSSS

He gets out from under his burrito of blankets and looks around his room for half decent clothes to wear to Mrs. Benedetto’s place, that woman is a gift to humanity three times over.

Stiles catches himself fantasizing about her classic pepperoni pizza and drooling pretty much. Pushing thoughts of beautiful pizzas and perfect sauce to cheese ratio, he pulls on a mildly clean shirt and his customary pair of weekday jeans.

He’s meeting Cora outside the restaurant, and there is no way that he is going to let her see how much ‘meeting’ Derek Hale has affected him.

“You’re late!” 

He jumps at least a foot as Cora pushes away from the wall she was leaning against in the dark spot of the street. 

“Jesus! Gave me a heart attack there.”

“Oh please, you should be used to it by now.”

“What? The ‘leaping out of shadows and startling unsuspecting people’ habit all members of your family seem to have?”

“Don’t exaggerate, Stiles.” 

“Exaggerate? Laura thinks it’s a sport hiding in the forest to scare the crap out of me every time she’s in town. Your mom doesn’t make a single sound while walking and loves to start a conversation when I don’t even know she’s in the room. And don’t even get me started on Peter!”

“You mean the dog or uncle Peter?”

And then they’re both giggling like 5-year olds because ever since Talia told Stiles that the husky was named after her brother, Stiles has been a part of the running joke - the dog or uncle peter? Probably both. Both. 

“Let’s go, dumbass, we’re already late.”

“Well, if you didn’t lurk in the shadows--”

“I wasn’t lurking...”

It’s almost like old times, sitting in Joe’s diner in Beacon Hills and complaining about pretty much anything and everything. In the diner, of course they felt at home and they were home, surrounded by familiar faces and noises.

“Do you miss Beacon Hills?”

Stiles stops chewing for a second and puts his slice down on his plate. Cora looks like she’s afraid to hear his answer, she is coming to Berkeley next year, after all.

“Some things I do, like Mr. Jenkins complaining about Scott and I loitering in front of his house to the Sheriff’s office and then muttering about ‘corrupt police and spoiled brats’ when dad wouldn’t put us in a cell overnight.”

“Out of all the things you could miss, you miss old man Jenkins?”

“That’s the thing about moving away no one tells you, Cora. You miss the stupidest things, like the other day I was dying for a slice of that lemon poppy seed cake thing Mrs. Argent bakes on Fridays. And I didn’t even like it that much.”

“You’re weird.”

“We all are and trust me, anyone who isn’t lying, misses the small things they never even paid attention to. If you don’t believe me, just ask your bothe--”

He cuts himself off before he crosses a line he can’t uncross. He’s already said too much, though.

“Just ask Laura.”

“Stiles, don’t try to--”

“Let’s not do this, Cora.”

“Do what, exactly? I’ve always asked and you’ve always told me it’s nothing but I’ve seen how you look at that photo on the wall at home. The one from when he was visiting dad’s grave.”

“Cora, pleas--”

“You know, I never understood why mom put that photo up in the first place. I mean, aren’t photos supposed to be happy memories, so why put up something that reminds us of death and sorrow? And then, one day I saw you looking at that photo. You looked like you recognised him, recognised that sad boy in the photo. So, I never asked you again.”

He can’t even form words right now, his thoughts are scattered into millions of pieces because he’s just now realising he isn’t as good at hiding as he thought he was.

“But then today in the hallway, when I told you Derek was my brother, you had that look on your face again. Like you recognise him, like you know him. And Stiles, even I don’t know him. So please, tell me.”

She has a right to know, he thinks. He’s her brother. 

“He saved me. Years ago, before I met you. He saved me.” 

He can see a million questions in her eyes but for his sake, she picks up her slice and starts eating. 

***

Just as they are about to part, Cora pulls him into a hug. For years, they’ve been close like siblings and he’s held her countless times but today it feels like she’s holding him instead.

“Cora--”

“Just wait, Gem.”

She hasn’t called him that in years. His mom used to call him that, it’s why he told everyone else to stop calling him that. 

He takes a deep breath and looks up at the sky. It’s a dark night, that’s why he had insisted to walk her home. She’s squeezing his middle with her strong arms and he’s always said that after Scott, Cora gives the best hugs.

He tears his eyes away from the sky and instead finds himself looking at Derek Hale, who is staring right back at him through a large window on the top floor of the building across the parking. 

Stiles realises with a jolt that this is the first time he has looked at Derek Hale knowing who he is. Cora isn’t letting go of him and Derek isn’t looking away. Even from this distance, Stiles can feel Derek’s eyes boring into his own. 

“He doesn’t remember you, Gem.”

He can feel himself leaning on Cora, his own body giving up on him. Cora is apologising over and over and Stiles wants to tell her to stop but he can’t find his words. 

Derek is still staring at him through the window.

He has to stop this, has to stop living in the past. It was one night years ago and he was a child. He has to let go of that memory, it feels like if he doesn’t let it go today, he’ll never be able to. Like this night will just go on forever, there will never be a new day.

With one last look at Derek, Stiles pulls back from Cora’s grip. He needs to free her from this burden. He needs to free himself.

“I’m sorry, Stiles. I’m so sor--”

“Hey, hey, stop. Cora, it’s okay, we’re different people now.” 

Cora hugs him once again before letting go. 

“Hey, let’s not talk about this again, yeah?”

“But Sti--”

“It was a stupid memory--”

“It’s not stupid.”

“I held on for too long, but it’s done now. Let’s just forget this, yeah?”

She looks at him for a long moment, trying to find truth in his eyes. Some days, she forgets that he lost his mother years ago and that’s taught him a thing or two about lying.

“You sure?”

“Certain.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

He bids her good night and walks back toward the campus with measured steps. He can feel eyes on his back but he doesn’t turn back. 

It feels poetic in a way, walking away with his back to Derek and not turning around. It feels final, in a way.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anything in here you absolutely hated? Wanted to send me a death threat over? Or maybe something you liked? Come tell me, I've got nothing to do here for weeks!


	10. I dreamt about you nearly every night this week

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back?

 

Things change after that day, it almost feels like jigsaw pieces sliding into place.

Stiles has that dream again that night, the one where he sees the silhouette of a small boy crying on the forest floor and a black wolf standing guard near the boy. He has never understood why he has this dream, why a wolf but one thing he knows is that he never feels safer than when he’s looking at that small boy and his wolf.

The next morning, he actually feels lighter. After the revelation about Derek being Derek Hale and then the heavy conversation with Cora, it feels like a burden has been lifted off his shoulders, a burden he didn’t even realize he was carrying.

Lydia texts him in the middle of his Psych class to let him know that everyone is going for pizza this afternoon and she expects to see Stiles there, no exceptions. He doesn’t even bother giving her an excuse.

It’s a generic weekly get-together where they’ll probably just talk about settling in at Berkeley and Jackson will probably complain about how hard classes are because he has a brain the size of a peanut. That’s what Stiles is expecting to find as he walks through to the back of the cafeteria and onto the little patio they have sort of commandeered for themselves.

He gets the shock of his life when he finds two tables put together and more than their merry band of friends sitting there.

“Stiles!”

And in less than a second, so many heads turn around and he gets ten pairs of eyes trained at him. He gulps loudly as he recognizes the faces.

“So guess who I met in my Physics class today? Erica.”

This feels like someone has reached into his brain, extracted his worst nightmare and made it happen.

Lydia and Erica are sitting side by side, both with matching predatory grins on their faces. Stiles is not sure how he is going to survive this, both of them look fierce with their lips painted blood red and sharp teeth gleaming through. Oh god, what is happening.

“Stiles?”

He probably looks like an idiot gaping at everyone as they wait for him to say something. But what can he even say?

Scott and Isaac are busy in their own world. Cora, Boyd and Allison seem to be discussing something in hushed whispers while Jackson glares at Erica probably because she’s hogging all of Lydia’s attention.

And Derek is staring at Stiles.

“Uh.”

“Are you in shock or something?”

He just shakes his head at Erica and moves to sit down in the only empty spot, which is of course directly across from Derek. Of course.

“What uh--what is--huh.”

“You wanna ask me something, Stiles?”

At Lydia’s commanding tone, everyone stops what they were doing and turn to face Stiles. God, he hates having all this attention on himself.

“No, I just--I’m just wondering, when did this happen?”

“I just told you, I met Erica in class and then we got talking. Great to make new friends, isn’t it?”

She winks at him, that’s when he remembers that conversation he’d had with her about meeting new people and this is so not what he had in mind.

“Yeah but--”

“Is there a problem, Stiles?”

He wants to say yes. He wants to get up and walk away because he’s still recovering from the clusterfuck that was yesterday and walk away from Derek’s eyes piercing through him but he knows he can’t.

“No.”

It becomes routine after that, they all meet in between classes and have lunch together or Scott will text him for a coffee in between classes and Stiles will go to find Erica and Isaac there too. More often than not, there are a bunch of them hanging around together.

A week in and it doesn’t even feel like there are new people among them, it’s like they’ve all known each other all along. Well, except for Stiles and Derek.

That’s something no one has touched with a ten foot pole. Not even Lydia or Erica.

They sit at the same table, have conversations around the other but hardly speak a word to each other. Even in bio class, Stiles and Scott have their conversations and Derek does his thing even if they’re all going to be having lunch together after class.

Then, one day that changes.

***

“Why are you such a jerk?”

He doesn’t realise he’s said it out loud till Derek snaps his head around to stare at Stiles. Yup, he has said it out loud this time.

“Excuse me?”

Well, it’s done now. Might as well speak his mind.

“I saw that.”

“What?”

It’s really not fair that Derek can relay so much information just by moving his eyebrows. The two of them may not have talked much while the others were having the time of their lives around them, but Stiles has noticed just how expressive Derek’s eyebrows are.

Ever since he let go of that memory from years ago, he feels lighter. Like, he can actually talk to Derek without his brain going _‘that’s Derek Hale, holy shit, it’s Derek Hale, I can’t believe that’s him’_.

Not that they’ve had much conversation at all but when he sees Derek glaring at the couple sitting across from their table, he just can’t contain himself. The poor guy looked like he was going to shit himself before he got up and pulled his girlfriend away from the table. They’ve just left the cafe and Stiles caught that smirk that sneaked onto Derek’s lips as he looked at their retreating backs.

And now, Derek is pretending like he doesn’t know what Stiles is talking about.

“I saw you glaring at that guy and don’t think I didn’t catch that evil smirk either.”

An expression of surprise flashes across Derek’s features, like he can’t fathom the possibility of Stiles looking at him long enough to have caught the smirk. _If only he knew_ , Stiles thinks bitterly.

“It wasn’t evil.”

Oh god, it feels like the world is melting around them because was that a smile that just crossed Derek’s lips? Stiles actually feels a shudder run down his spine at the realisation, god Derek is beautiful.

Apparently, he checks out of the conversation and was staring at Derek - was that really a smile, though? - just now because the guy in question is looking at him expectantly. Stiles feels a little unsettled at this change in dynamic between them.

_Pull yourself together, Stilinski!_

“Oh please, Cruella Deville couldn’t smirk that evilly!”

And then the most amazing thing happens, Derek breaks out laughing. Stiles doesn’t even know what to do, where to look, he almost has to squint because Derek is so bright like this.

Apparently, no one else knows what to do either, they all stop mid-conversation and are staring at Derek. Erica throws him a quick wink but Stiles is too out of it to even respond to her.

The others turn to look at him and it’s comical really that all their heads turn at the same time.

“You did not just compare me to a disney villain.”

Stiles gets pulled back in, he forgets all about everyone staring at him because Derek is literally commanding all his attention. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the others looking between him and Derek like spectators at a tennis match.

“I did because it’s an apt comparison. You could totally rock the black and white hairdo!”

Derek looks away from him but Stiles sees that tiny quirk of lips he tries to hide behind his hand.

That’s the day Stiles realises that he’s in way deeper than he ever realised.

***

If someone asked him to pinpoint the exact moment he and Stiles stopped being rude to each other at every possible minute and started being civil, he couldn’t.

But ever since that day in the hallway when Cora had punched him, Derek feels like something changed. He doesn’t even know half the story of what happened or when or why but one day, he and Stiles ended up being at the same cafe table because all their friends decided to become friends weeks ago.

For the most part, Derek remembers sitting at the table reading his thesis as conversations went on around him, Stiles never tried to talk to him and Derek certainly wouldn’t initiate a conversation so they’ve just been co-existing.

Except, things are not so clear in his head. In there, it’s all a muddle of things he’s felt that he doesn’t understand and those that he refuses to understand.

For some reason, he keeps dreaming about that moment when he’d looked out the large french windows in the loft and found Cora hugging Stiles in the parking lot. He knows it was dark and he was on the top floor so he couldn’t possibly have, but it feels like he saw Stiles’ eyes boring through his own. And ever since that night, he’s been seeing Stiles just like that in his dreams.

So, it’s weird sitting across from the guy and pretending like he’s not there when he spends every night memorising the exact shade of brown his eyes reflect. It’s a stupid dream, anyway.

“What’re you thinking about?”

He snaps out of his thoughts as Stiles drops into the chair across from him. He’s still trying to wrap his head around that one, _he and Stiles talk now_. And not just hurl insults at each other but actually ‘talk about mundane stuff’ talk.

“Nothing.”

“Well whatever it was, you had this blissed out look on your face so I’m going to assume it was about making babies cry.”

Derek wants to protest, he doesn’t terrorize babies, Laura’s daughter loves him but before he can even open his mouth, Erica jumps in.

“Pffft, you’re such a dick, Stiles.”

“What? Nooo, he probably scares little kids on halloween.”

“I don--”

No one pays him any attention because Erica has nodded her head in agreement and Stiles just steamrolls over what Derek was going to say.

“No way, he actually does that? Scares little kids on halloween instead of giving them candy? Oh my god, how do you sleep at night?”

“I just lie down with my eyes closed and it comes to me.”

“Was that sarcasm, Derek?! Oh my god, they grow up so fast.”

God, Stiles is so stupid. Everyone’s laughing at his antics and he looks so proud, Derek almost leans across the table to shut him up with a hand on his mouth before realising what he was just about to do so he settles for a muttered, “Fuck off!” instead.

So yeah, things have changed between them. They’re both still rude to each other most of the time but he guesses that’s the foundation of their interactions - the insulting. And he’s okay with it, even misses it sometimes when he doesn’t see Stiles for a few days.

“Oi, sourwolf! Where are you today, man?”

“How many times have I asked you not to call me that?”

“Not enough.”

This is not how he imagined his last semester at Berkeley to be, surrounded by a bunch of teenagers who have no regard for his privacy and make fun of him pretty much constantly. And, he lets them.

His mother would be proud he thinks, that he has let these people in. After all these years of being alone, it’s different having so many people around so often but it’s good. He’s beginning to feel like he belongs and that’s a feeling he hasn’t had in years.

“See? His head’s in the clouds today, doesn’t even hear us.”

“Why do you sound like a housewife from the 50s worried her husband’s having an affair? Want his attention that bad, Stilinski?”

“Jackson, do you ever get the feeling you’re in the way?”

Jackson’s face turns red with anger while everyone else at the table is silently losing their shit.

“Because four years of being friends with us, and all you are is in the way.”

“Stop.”

Lydia looks angry and that’s something Derek does not want to be around so he says his goodbyes, ignores Stiles’ protests and walks away from the table.

 

***

Sometimes it catches up with him, the novelty of being friendly with more than just Erica, Boyd and Isaac. It catches up with him in the middle of a conversation with Stiles as he goes on and on about lacrosse practice and how Coach Finstock bullies them into submission, and at times like that Derek doesn’t know how he manages to stay put and listen to Stiles instead of excusing himself and taking the breather he so badly needs.

He’s not anti-social, strictly speaking, but he has lived a very isolated life the last few years. His first year at Berkeley, he’d hardly had a proper conversation with people once in a week. The only people he talked to back then were his extremely adamant family members who’d keep calling till he gave in.

Then next year, Erica and the guys had barged into his life and refused to leave. He still cringes when he remembers the mess of a conversation when Erica had forced herself to stay the night at his loft after dinner and told him point blank that they were friends. Derek had thought he was inviting the girl in his English class for a dinner because she’d had a seizure in front of him that day and she didn’t look like she was fine enough to be by herself.

What he’d gotten was Erica adamantly insisting that Derek was a friend and that they should meet more often. He was honestly worried that Erica had a crush on him and would try to hit on him at some point. He was still struggling with the still recent disaster that was his romantic history and would’ve jumped out the window than be hit on by someone. A very awkward week later, Erica had introduced Boyd as the guy she had a crush on and Derek had honest to god sat down on the floor in relief.

In the last two years, he’s gotten used to having the three of them around but he still didn’t care about being civil with anyone outside of their little group.

Now, he’s almost constantly surrounded by at least six people at a given time. It is a hard thing to adjust to but he’s taking his time. Scott and Jackson are friendly towards him but he hardly has to talk to either of them, most of the time they try to do weird handshakes with him and give up when he glares at them if they call him any version of a 'bro'. Allison sometimes sits with him and they get to talking about archery, Derek used to own a bow and arrow as a teenager but he’d given up the hobby after his dad died. Still, he oddly likes talking to Allison about it.

Lydia commands Derek’s attention like she commands anyone’s attention - completely and forcefully. They haven’t talked a lot but she’s the only one who brings up Beacon Hills in front of him, he gets the feeling that everyone else avoids the topic on purpose and he’s somewhat grateful for that. But when Lydia starts talking about Mr. Harris, the chemistry teacher, or Mr. Jenkins, the old man who hated all their guts just because they were teenagers, Derek feels a ping of nostalgia he hasn't felt in a while.

And Stiles. He’s the odd one out. Some days, they banter like old friends but most days, they just sit next to each other and be a part of their little mismatched group. Derek doesn’t know if he’d call Stiles a friend, they are friendly but there’s still a gap there.

Given how they started out though, Derek would say he never would’ve thought that he and Stiles would even look at each other twice let alone eat lunch together four days a week. So yeah, he’s getting used to the change.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me, do you like this? Do you absolutely hate this? Why?


	11. There's a fire starting in my heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, settle down, kids. This chapter is longer, has more plot development rather than inner thoughts AND includes something you guys have been waiting for so go forth! Also I've provided a link to a visual that will come in handy, just look for the * and then scroll down to the notes to find the link. 
> 
> PS - I graduated last week, and am now an unemployed person with a degree. There are no jobs in my field and I'm now second-guessing every decision I ever made. And on that happy note, enjoy!

 

Lydia convinces them all to go to some stupid party in one of the fraternities. Derek obviously said no first off but Erica told Laura who told mom and Derek got a _‘you need to be social, love. It’s your last month at Berkeley, do you want to regret not having enjoyed later?_ ’ phone call from her in the middle of the night.

So now, he’s standing in front of Erica staring her down while she roots through his wardrobe.

“Just how many pairs of sweatpants do you own, Derek?”

“I need them.”

“All of them?”

“Yes.”

She huffs in annoyance - as if she has any right to be annoyed - and throws a shirt on the bed. It’s the stupid shirt Laura had bought him last time she was in town  _because you need club clothes, Der, to show off your six pack and your guns._

He cringes at the memory, it had been a long night of Laura getting progressively drunk and trying to pimp him out. He’d just carried her home in the end and made her sleep on the lumpy couch as punishment.

“I’m not wearing that.”

Erica spins around - she didn’t used to do this dramatic turning around thing before she met Lydia - and shoots him a dirty glare.

“You can’t go in sweatpants, so.”

“I can just not go.”

“Do you want me to call Mrs. Hale?”

“Why the fuck is this so important to you? I haven’t gone to any parties in years so why now?”

“Everyone will be there.”

“And?”

“Stiles is coming too an--”

“Stop.”

She stops speaking but turns around to root through his wardrobe again. Derek knows it’s a tactic to avoid looking at him.

“Erica?”

“Hmmm?”

He doesn’t even have to make an effort to roll his eyes, it’s an automatic response at this point. _Dammit, how did he get pulled into his situation?_

“Turn around.”

He can hear her sigh but she pulls out that fancy pair of jeans he never wears and turns around to face him. She doesn’t say anything, just stares at him.

“What is this?”

“It’s a pair of jeans, Derek.”

He doesn’t bother speaking, he’s recently been told his eyebrows are very communicative.

Erica stands her ground for a bit, but he can see her withering under his stare and it’s only a matter of time so he stays where he is and keeps his eyes fixed on her.

“Fine! I just want you to enjoy your last few weeks of college, Derek. You’re always sulking and I just thought a party would be nice and everyone will be there so you can hang out with us and with Stiles. I mean I know you lik--”

He raises his eyebrow at her, it’s a warning that she doesn’t heed.

“--e him and you’ve warmed up to him. He’s a funny guy, I get it. You were at each other’s throats just two weeks ago and now--”

He’s trying to convey his annoyance with just his face and he can see her losing her confidence but she keeps going.

“I just--you laughed, Derek. I haven’t seen you laugh in ages, and never in front of anyone but us. He made you laugh and I--”

All his thoughts stumble to a stop. She’s right, she is but he hadn’t realised it until just now.

“He made a joke, Erica.”

“Not the first time someone has joked but you've never--”

“That’s enough.”

“But Der--”

“I’m telling you to drop it. Whatever you’re thinking, just drop it.”

“Okay. But you’re coming to the party.”

After this mess of a conversation, he can do with a drink or seven. There are too many thoughts struggling to get through his barrier of denial, too much that Erica has inadvertently unearthed and he needs a drink if he’s going to get through the night without doing something he’ll regret.

“Fine.”

“And you’re wearing the shirt.”

“That one’s a no.”

“Please?”

“I can hardly breathe in it, Erica. Laura forced me to wear it and honestly, I don’t know why I still have it.”

“For today, you have it for today. Come on, please, for me.”

She doesn’t show this side of her very often, this side that looks at Derek with pleading eyes because she’s not sure of herself. This side that was her whole personality three years ago when she was still struggling with her epilepsy. And Derek has seen her transform from that insecure, scared girl into the fierce woman she is today and he’d never be the reason for her regression. Never willingly.

“Okay.”

“Yaass! Okay okay, I need to go get changed too but Boyd is coming directly from work so I will come back over so we can both drive there. Get the Camaro ready, please.”

That’s the Erica he’s used to seeing now, barking orders at him and expecting obedience.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh, this is why I love you, Der! Okay, go get changed, I’ll be back in half an hour!”

And before he can even respond, she turns and rushes toward the door with her heels clicking on his wooden floor. He used to think living with his mom and sisters is preparing him for a world dominated by women but he’s still struggling to catch up with the whirlwind that is the ferocious women in his life.

***

He's in the middle of watching an episode of The 100 when the loft door slides open and in walks Erica with her heels clacking on the floor - again. Derek sighs and pauses the episode in favour of facing her.

"You're watching Netflix."

"Wow, astute observation. Would you like your million dollars in cash or cheque?"

"Maybe I shouldn't be encouraging you to speak with Stiles, after all."

He looks at her with a warning in his eyes, she raises her hands in surrender as if she hasn't already said everything she wanted to.

"Can we just go?"

He gets off the sofa to go and grab his jacket, wallet and keys from his bedside table. Erica whistles at him as he walks by her, which shouldn't surprise him but he raises his eyebrows at her anyway.

"What? You look like Steve Rodgers right now."

He just sighs and walks away _because_ _what can he even do?_

Erica is drinking from one of his vodka bottles when he comes back out and she generously offers him a swig. He thinks about turning her down but the frat house is about four minutes away from his loft so it's not a lot of driving, and he can feel the need to have alcohol sloshing through him and muddling his senses so he accepts the bottle.

One swig turns into a gulp and he can feel the spirit gliding down his throat and burning his stomach, it’s been awhile since Derek has drank in front of company, he can feel Erica’s wide eyes on him. Come to think of it, she has never seen Derek drinking. May have seen him piss drunk but never getting drunk.

"Woah! Slow down, D, you're driving."

"I know."

She follows after him as he locks up and walks to the elevator. The underground parking smells like a dungeon and he hates parking here but he also loves his car and doesn't want it scratched so he has to park here.

When he does see her parked in a corner spot, her black paint job almost obscuring her in the shadows, he has to stop and breathe in. God, she's so beautiful.

"My god, can you stop making heart-eyes at your car? Hurry up, we're late."

He rolls his eyes at her and takes a step toward her, it almost feels like the rush he felt when he first got her. His car is one of the only things he allows himself to get attached to. _Cars don't go and break people._

"Come on, Derek!"

He sighs when he feels the leather of the steering wheel under his fingers, it's like coming back to an old lover. And she growls like a beast when he floors it, Erica lets out a loud scream as they go flying down the road. A bunch of teenagers holler at them as they skid by, this feeling of freedom is something Derek only gets when he's driving her. And the icy roads are a part of the reason why he loathes winter.

"Oh fuck! This is amazing!"

He just smiles at her and pulls on his ray-bans even though it's almost dark outside. With the steering wheel in his hand and the gas pedal under his foot, Derek feels invincible. This is one of the only times he'll let himself feel without restraint.

"We're here, slow down, Der."

_God, what he wouldn't give to drop her off and go for a drive instead of this stupid party. Feel the wind through his hair as he flies down the interstate._

"Coming in?"

He turns to face her and finds Stiles and Scott standing outside the huge frat house, watching them. Derek doesn't know what comes over him - it's probably the shot of vodka - that he shoots them both a grin. He can see Stiles watching him with his mouth hanging open and that just makes him smile wider. * 

He doesn't realise he's staring at Stiles till Erica gets out of the car and slams the door behind her. Then, he's angry at himself for giving in. Stiles is still looking at him as he hits the pedal and peels down the street with Erica yelling at him to park and come back.

***

"Are you there, Stilinski?"

He shakes himself off and finds Erica snapping her fingers in front of his face. She looks extremely smug about something which sets off all kinds of alarms in his mind.

"Yup!"

"Looked like you were in a trance, there."

"He drives a Camaro."

His own voice sounds weird to his ears, like a robot’s. Erica throws him a predatory grin which reminds of the one Derek had just casually bestowed upon him and yup, that's his heart trying to escape via his throat.

"He does, you like?"

"The car? Yes."

"Him?"

Her keen eyes pierce through him, Stiles is not entirely sure why this feels like a loaded question but she looks like she's not going to budge without an answer. Thankfully, Boyd has perfect timing as he comes from behind and surprises her with a kiss. While she walks away with his arm around her waist, Stiles counts his blessings. Of course, he jinxes it.

"This isn't over, Stiles."

He hears Boyd asking her what she's talking about but she just placates him with a bullshit excuse about lab work. And Stiles is left standing outside the party while all of his friends have paired off and Derek is off somewhere in the most beautiful car Stiles has ever seen.

This is why he didn't want to come to this party.

Scott is absolutely pissed and keeps going around the room talking to everyone he can find. Of course, they love him. Stiles, on the other hand, is left standing in a corner looking at everyone with a creepy stalker stare because he’s probably the most sober person here and everyone looks like they’ve been drinking for days.

He’s carefully watching Derek and Erica having what seems to be an argument in the front lawn when Scott shows up and decides it’s a good idea to drape himself all over Stiles’ back.

“Stiles, I’m thinking.”

Stiles is still busy looking through the window at Derek outside, his basic instinct to say something sarcastic and rude takes over.

“Why start after all these years?”

Scott looks hurt by the implication for all of two seconds before he blinks and starts over again.

“I’m thinking.”

Stiles sighs and turns away from the window. _It’s a slippery slope_ , he reminds himself, and he should stay away.

“About?”

“About Allison.”

“Oh God, Scott, no pleas--”

“No, no, listen. I think it’s good that we’re taking time off.”

Well, call him an asshole but he won’t believe that this relationship is deaded till Scott gets married to someone else. He’s just seen too much and knows too much.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I think I like Kira.”

Stiles does a double take because is that Scott moving on? Looks like it!

“Who’s Kira?”

“The girl in bio who draws dragons. She asked me on a date.”

“No way, get outta here!”

“She did, and I said yes.”

“Good for you, Scotty! Bloody good for you.”

He’s happy for his best friend, of course he is but it also makes his stomach knot. Two weeks, that’s how long Scott’s been single before he found someone else.

And now they’re all paired up again, everyone except him. And Derek, but that’s something Stiles is not going to touch at all.

“Why do you look sad, Stiles?”

“Nothing buddy, I just remembered how Bucky didn’t recognise Steve that first time but Steve recognised him.”

“That is sad.”

And then he’s off to talk to another stranger while Stiles stands there feeling like someone’s just punched him in the gut but he’s not sure why he’s feeling this way. So, he does the only sensible thing and goes to find his old buddy, one Jack Daniels and heads outside.

Fifteen minutes later, he finds himself lying down on cold grass with a half-full bottle of whiskey in hand. He can feel a haze settling over his mind, his movements languid as the alcohol mixes with his blood and makes him feel loose in that way that only drinking can.

He stretches out his legs and sighs loudly, can feel the tension seeping out of his bones with every passing second. He loves the first few minutes, when the buzz just starts and he can still tell his thoughts apart but just barely. Seeing his father become an alcoholic after his mom died was one of the most painful memories he has, and it stops him from picking up the bottle himself or he’d always be drunk.

“Mind if I join?”

Startled, he rises up on his elbows and looks around to find Derek standing over him. Maybe it’s the whiskey starting to fizzle in his veins or maybe it’s because Derek looks breath-taking, but Stiles lets his eyes linger for the first time. Derek takes that as a yes and settles next to him, a bottle of vodka neatly tucked in his jacket before he takes it out and takes a large swig.

“I can never drink vodka.”

Derek faces him slightly, “All I can drink.”

It catches Stiles off guard because Derek doesn’t usually indulge in conversation unless provoked repeatedly. Maybe, he’s drunk too.

They lay there silently beside each other, loud voices from inside the house pour out the windows disturbing the delicate peace but Stiles can hardly hear them over the sound of his blood rushing in his ears. The only other sound is Derek’s breathing beside him, or the occasional gulp of vodka he takes from his bottle.

“Cora texted me earlier.”

Stiles snaps his head around to face Derek, who is lying down beside him facing the sky with his eyes closed. He allows himself to look for a second, “Oh?”

“Wanted to know if I’d seen you at all.”

He can hear a tinge of concern in Derek’s voice but maybe that’s just the vodka talkin. Stiles turns to face the sky too, it’s a clear night and he can almost see the stars through the city fog.

“She’s been texting me, I wasn’t able to answer cuz Erica makes me turn off my phone in the lab these days. I guess she got worried.”

“I guess.”

The sadness in Derek’s voice makes Stiles feel a little courageous. He takes a gulp out of his bottle before closing his eyes.

“Hey, Derek?”

“Yeah?”

He doesn’t speak for a long second, it feels like he’s holding his breath underwater but he knows he has to say it.

“Cora’s just very stubborn. She did forgive you, just doesn’t know how to say it.”

“Hmmm.”

Neither of them says anything after that, maybe Stiles did cross a line or something. He and Derek have never talked about that day or about how they both know Cora. This feels like Stiles is trespassing.

“I never really got to know her. Left home before she was even 12.”

“I know.”

It feels like a loaded confession rather than the simple agreement Stiles meant it to be. _God, how did they even get here?_

“Does she--did she ever talk about me?”

There is so much insecurity in Derek’s voice when he asks that that Stiles wants to snap at someone because who made Derek like this? Who did this to him? Made him doubt that his own sister cares about him?

“Pretty much constantly. Especially when I first met her, I uh--she talked about how you used to play the knight to her princess when she was little.”

Derek gasps next to him, as if surprised that Cora would remember. Or maybe he’s surprised that Stiles knows this.

“And then, she got a bit angry when you didn’t come back for Christmas the first two years.”

_Silence._  Derek doesn’t say anything so Stiles pushes on.

“Now, she’s mostly just being stubborn and holding a grudge for the heck of it. She will be pissed though if you miss her high-school convocation, she said.”

“I’m glad she had you.”

He may be wrong but he thinks there is a hint of sadness in Derek’s words. He doesn’t have anything else to say though, without revealing things he doesn’t want to reveal so he just nods his head.

“Laura is a whole other story, though.”

Derek turns to face him, weight resting on his elbow as he looks at Stiles with surprise on his face.

“You know Laura?”

“Dude, Laura is like my platonic soul-mate slash arch-nemesis. We’re best bros.”

“I didn’t realize.”

That’s all Derek says before he lies back down. On the one hand, Stiles feels like a dick for making Derek feel bad about not going home. On the other, he knows things about his sisters that Derek missed but Stiles can tell him.

“She thinks it’s funny hiding out in the Preserve when she knows I’m coming over and basically scaring the shit out of me.”

That startles a laugh out of Derek, and god is that a beautiful sound that Stiles wants played at his funeral, so he keeps going.

“Not only her, your whole family likes to lurk in the shadows and pounce. Your mom walks without making a single noise. Even Peter is a fan of pouncing!’”

“Uncle Peter or the dog?”, he can hear the smile in Derek’s voice.

“Both.”

And then they’re both laughing their asses off like teenagers on their first high. For the first time, Stiles feels like he is looking at Derek rather than a mask of convenience.

"Laura never talked about it in the beginning, you know. About you leaving, she'd start telling me something about her childhood and then stop mid-sentence after saying your name. Then, she started trusting me after she got drunk a while back and I half-walked and half-carried her home. Man, she is a loud drunk!"

Derek turns to face him, his eyes are darting across Stiles' face with curiosity. He looks like he's absorbing every word and filing it into his brain. Stiles wants to stay here on the grass and talk till he runs out of things to tell Derek.

"That I have experienced, first-hand."

"Then you'll know how chatty she becomes, wants to talk about your dog, your family tree and the history of women's rights. Good thing, I love all of those things."

Derek chuckles at him, his face doing a weird crinkly-eyed thing and Stiles almost stops breathing _because is there anything that Derek can't do?_

"So yeah, she started calling me over whenever she was in town and wanted to get drunk. I remember when Harvey and she decided to get separated, she called me and asked me to come to the Preserve to this place she and I go to get drunk. All legal, I promise. Didn't tell me what was happening but she sounded like she was crying, and you know Laura, she never cries so I hurried over there."

Derek can't help but gasp in surprise at Stiles' admission, Laura didn't even tell Derek about Harvey till the paperwork was sorted. She didn't tell mom or Cora either, Derek thought he was the first person she told but here is Stiles telling him that he was the one Laura called when she needed someone.

It's not anger or envy, it's something else he's feeling right now. It's wonder, wonder at this boy in front of him because he has weaved his way through Derek's family and he's been there when Derek should've been but wasn't. It's gratefulness that he feels. 

"She'd kill me if she knew I was saying this out loud but she was a right mess that night, I've never seen her so broken. You probably know this already but she blames herself, a lot, for a lot of things."

Stiles doesn't say it, but his eyes do. Laura blames herself for what happened with Derek too, he already knows that. _A sudden fear creeps through hazy thoughts, has Laura told Stiles what happened? Has Stiles known all along? Does he--_

"She didn't tell me anything, I never asked."

Maybe Stiles can read minds, Derek thinks. Or it must be showing on his face. 

"She mostly just talked about how she never gave importance to emotions and feelings ever since your dad, uh--you know. And that's why Harvey always had to try to reach out to her but he gave up, she said. I kept telling her it wasn't her fault, people are the way they are because of their experiences in life and she would just start rambling about how your dad was the emotional one and after him, she just didn't know how to feel, how to navigate her feelings."

Derek has never heard something that he can relate to more than this. He doesn't know if Stiles realises this or not, doesn't know if the guy understands that this is why Derek took up Psychology in the first place - to understand why he is the way he is. And because their dad used to teach Psychology at the Beacon Hills Community College. He thinks Stiles doesn't realise it, but he does understand at some level.

"I've been studying the Intimacy model and like, personality stuff for a while now cuz I was trying to understand--wade through some of my own stuff. It's pretty interesting."

_God, is there anything this kid doesn't know?_ Derek's just now realising it but Stiles is actually tied into every part of Derek's life: his family, friends, college, everything. He speaks Irish. And he's studying Psychology.

"I tried explaining it to her, that people have different attachment styles and how they're based on life experiences and such, and she bitch-slapped me."

They both laugh at that because that is definitely something Laura would do. Derek has been at the receiving end of many a slap to know this.

"Your sisters hit like pro wrestlers, I'm not even joking."

That brings a smile to Derek's face.

"I'm glad."

Stiles turns to him with a serious face, well as serious as he can be, Derek guesses.

"So am I."

Then a comfortable silence settles between them. Stiles has told him so much tonight, most of it for Derek's benefit, for the the first time in forever Derek wants to tell someone something. For the first time in a long time, he feels like he can trust someone.

"My dad used to speak Irish, he was from Cork."

Stiles snaps his head around to look at Derek with wide eyes, like he can't believe Derek is telling him something. To be honest, Derek can't either.

"He taught me a little, just basic stuff. Used to say he'd take me to his hometown some day. Never got the chance."

"My mom was Polish."

Derek doesn't know how to respond to that, Stiles has told him so much in just those four words. There's sadness, resentment, loss all wrapped up in that one statement and Derek understands all too well.

"Cora took Irish with you?"

"Yeah, that's how we met at school. She said she wanted to learn it because her dad used to speak it, but she was too young when he passed away to remember any of it."

"Yeah, he used to love Irish poetry. He had a huge library at home, filled with poetry and mythical books from Ireland and Scotland."

"That must be the study."

It takes him a moment to process what Stiles has just said. It must be the vodka or the shock perhaps, but he never realised that Stiles has been inside his home. In his dad's library.

"You've seen the library?"

"Yeah, Laura showed me. She said I looked like someone who knew how to respect a library, I think she was teasing Cora about something. Mrs. Hale converted it into a study last year, she lets me read the books there."

He can't put into words what he feels right now, it's nothing he has felt before. Knowing that Stiles has been in his dad's library, has touched the books his dad cherished like treasures he'd acquired, that Stiles has been in his house when Derek hasn't in years, it just--he feels something low in his gut that he can't quite explain. It's a heady feeling.

"I wanted to learn Irish, all through high school and at college, but they don't offer it here."

"They do offer Beginner's Irish at the Berkeley City College."

He sighs and takes a swig from his bottle. Maybe he'll take the course, then.

"I never took you for someone who'd ever share, but I guess the vodka's helping with that."

Stiles hasn't asked a question and Derek isn't going to offer an answer. They both drink in silence. Derek can feel his vision swimming, his hands are getting clammy and he's feeling light. Like, he can do whatever he wants and it won't come back to hurt him. Risky, that's what he's feeling.

"So you used to call me 'Grumpy and downright rude fuckboy'".

He makes it sound like a statement rather than a question, it always sounds more authoritative that way. Stiles' eyes widen comically as his whiskey addled brain catches up with what he's heard and he twists around at an unnatural angle to look at Derek with terror on his face. He tries not to laugh at Stiles' face and ruin the bluff.

"How did you--Erica. I'm gonna kill her."

Derek just stares at him with a straight face, eyebrow raised in question. Stiles' face does this thing where one second he looks like he's going to shit his pants but the very next second, he looks like he's leading England into war.

"Well, I should've called you the Incredible Sulk, instead."

He doesn't know how to respond to that. It's incredibly clever and vaguely insulting, but Derek's more impressed than anything else.

"Erica calls me Steve Rodgers because I'm older and inept at technology, apparently."

Stiles bursts out laughing, Derek knows it's dangerous to look but he can't stop himself. And a laughing Stiles is a sight to behold - _his mouth is wide open in exclamation, his eyes full of mirth and his moles almost dancing on his face,_  Derek isn't sure he's ever seen anything more beautiful, he looks away before Stiles catches him.

"I think it's apt, 'Derek - he's got a heart of gold and a shoulder to waist ratio of a dorito'."

It's out before he can stop himself, "How do you know my shoulder to waist ratio?"

Stiles blushes a dark shade of crimson, his pale skin colouring beautifully and this time Derek can't look away.

"Uh--Cora said you're always working out."

He has no idea what he's saying, it's like someone has taken over his body and is asking Stiles these questions, "That doesn't answer my question."

Stiles closes his eyes for a second and Derek thinks he has made him uncomfortable, an apology is on his lips when Stiles turns on his side to face Derek and opens his eyes. They're darker than their usual amber colour, and they're looking directly at Derek. He feels himself lean closer, as if he's being pulled in.

Stiles licks his lips before he speaks, Derek almost misses what he says because he's busy admiring the way Stiles' lips darken after his tongue runs over them.

"When you wear shirts like that, it's not a secret anymore."

He wants to say something, a witty remark ready on his tongue, _'you have to be looking, though_ _'_  but he can't pull his eyes away from Stiles' lips. His tongue peeks out again and brushes over his lips, Derek makes the mistake of looking up and into Stiles' eyes and that's when he loses a battle he didn't realise he was fighting.

Stiles' eyes are mesmerizing, dilated pupils darting all over Derek's face before they still. He finds himself lost in Stiles and moving closer without realising it. He can feel Stiles' breath on his lips and it sends a shudder down his spine, he's not even touching Derek yet this is the most erotic thing he ever remembers experiencing.

Just as he's about to take that leap and brush his lips against Stiles' wet ones, a loud noise sounds from somewhere and it's like Derek has finally come back into his body, he realises what he was about to do and springs back. 

***  
He is one second away from being kissed by the second coming of Apollo when a stupid frat boy runs out the front door butt naked yelling about leprechauns. God, Stiles wants to punch that asshole.

Derek pulls back almost violently, like he's not sure what he was doing. Stiles can see doubt and regret blooming on Derek's face before he sits up and makes an excuse, "I drove Erica here, I should go look for her."

They make eye contact for a sole second and it seems that something is said between their eyes, an understanding has been reached silently.

"Yeah, I should go look for Scott."

Derek nods and gets up, brushing off his clothes. His shirt is sticking to his skin, a button pops open when he tries to brush off a leaf off his jeans. Stiles' eyes get stuck on the sliver of skin exposed from his open shirt button, what he wouldn't give to lick a stripe up his neck and bite down on his pulse point--oh fuck.

Derek catches him looking and rushes to close the button, and Stiles can only look away ashamed. He clears his throat and gulps down more than a mouthful of JD. If he's going to walk away from Derek and pretend like nothing happened, he needs liquid courage. Even as he thinks about seeing Derek in class tomorrow, or at lunch and pretend like they didn't spend hours sharing things either of them would never say out loud, he can feel an ache in his chest.

He feels dirty, like he's not enough for Derek and that's why he's being pushed aside. That's why Derek's eyes are begging him to forget what has just happened.

"I'm gonna go find Scott. Night, Derek."

He walks away without a single look at Derek, walks away before he has to look at Derek again and find blind panic in his eyes. He never even thought Derek would be attracted to him, much less share something personal with him so then why does it feel like someone has stabbed him through the heart? Why does Derek's face filled with disappointment flash behind his eyes when he tries to blink away the stupid piece of stray garbage stuck in his eyes? Why does it feel like someone is twisting the knife that's lodged square in his chest to make sure he bleeds out before he can even walk away?

He never hears Derek's answer.

*** 

Erica finds him at some point, she is drunk herself but feels the need to make Derek feel like he's being an irresponsible adult. And points out things he'd rather not hear right now, so he lays back down on the ground.

"You look like someone's just punched you."

He stays where he is, on the ground with the almost empty bottle of vodka clutched in his hand beside him. He can hear her words, but more than that he can hear Stiles' voice. Everything he's told Derek tonight, every last thing being replayed in his mind over and over as a deep ache fizzles and burns slowly in his gut. It's a familiar burn, one that turns everything to ash if Derek lets it be.

Most days, he runs or works out till he can't feel the burn anymore. Tonight, he lets it burn.

"Derek? Everything okay?"

He takes one last gulp of the vodka and gets off the grass. Chugging the bottle into the nearest bin, he sighs and nods to her before walking away. Boyd had taken his keys earlier and promised to deliver his Camaro safe and scratchless to his loft, so he doesn't have to drive - not that he could even tell which side of the road he's on right now.

Erica yells something after him, but he doesn't stop to respond. The streets are dead around him as he somehow walks toward his loft. An acute feeling of loss has settled into his bones by the time he stumbles through the front door and lands on his face. He can't help but laugh at his luck, lying face down on the floor and burning in a feeling he can't even name. Stiles' eyes shying away from his are the last thing he remembers as he falls asleep right there on the floor.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit me with it! Did you like this, hate this? Wanna send me a cake, I'm sort of down right now, I could use a cake..
> 
> 1\. This is a visual of what Derek looked like when grinning at Stiles in the Camaro, Stiles' brain melting is an apt response to this: http://33.media.tumblr.com/b4fba297d92efa0b5bc0f7b72d95340d/tumblr_n4sx3w6fvq1ss5i3vo1_500.gif
> 
> http://38.media.tumblr.com/b3e34ebe6dd0b1ea8e862709cf800ff1/tumblr_n9vfn5rxpl1tsrgkoo3_r1_500.gif
> 
> http://data2.whicdn.com/images/31956524/large.gif
> 
> 2\. That 'heart of gold and body to waist ratio' comment was made by RDJ for Captain Rodgers.


	12. It'll leave you breathless, or with a nasty scar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I've been so lazy and not updated in so long but worry not, for I am back. I hope you guys like this and there's another update coming soon!

He doesn't let it get weird, they don't let it get weird.

Derek is in his usual seat in bio on Monday and Stiles quietly slides into his own. Scott is oblivious next to him as he goes on and on about his headache.

"--muscles I didn't know I had hurt, Stiles. I don't even remember what I did, and I slept through yesterday so I should totally be okay and not hungover right now. I can't--"

Stiles stops paying him any attention and just nods and agrees once in a while. Scott can deal, Stiles has bigger things on his mind.

Derek doesn't make a single sound throughout the class, he doesn't turn around to look at them which he never does anyway so obviously, everything is back to normal. At least, that's what it feels like. Except, Stiles can't help the sinking feeling in his stomach either, the kind you feel when you know something precious has been snatched away from you and it's not coming back.

At lunch that day, everyone at the table is discussing about the stupid frat party and for some reason, Derek isn't here. Stiles wants to ask but he can't bring himself to. As much as he's ready to pretend that nothing life changing has happened since the last time he saw everyone, he knows it's not true. He knows he's lying to himself.

Physical attraction has never felt like he is drowning, thrashing around for someone to see him struggling and to help him break the surface of the water he can't breathe under. That's not what falling for Lydia had felt like.

"Stiles? Where are you lost?"

"What? Oh, I was just thinking about a test. What's up?"

"We're telling Scott what he was doing at the party. Anything you'd like to add?"

"Dude, you were absolutely wasted and I'm pretty sure you told someone to turn off the lights because you couldn't hear anything."

Scott looks mildly embarrassed as the others chip in with more tales from the party. He notices Erica looking at him continuously but she smiles and looks away when she catches his eye. Stiles is not sure what they talk about during the rest of lunch, he can't help but keep replaying everything Derek had told him that night. For some reason, he feels like he knows things about Derek that he hasn't told anyone else.

That old feeling of knowing Derek, knowing the real him comes back to him. That feeling he had vowed he was going to leave behind, along with that memory of crying into Derek's shirt all those years ago. Then, he remembers Derek looking at him with pleading eyes, silently begging him to forget how close they had come that night. And just like that, Stiles can't take it anymore.

He pushes everything aside, refuses to keep thinking about Derek and jumps back into the conversation. Teasing Scott is way less taxing on his health, anyway.

"Well Scotty, you paraded me around the room and kept telling people we're brothers because we used to eat paste together as children and of course when you've eaten paste with someone, that's the strongest bond!"

Scott looks down at the table, his ears are turning pink and he won't meet anyone's eyes. Stiles just laughs and pulls his best friend into his side with a soft, "Just kidding, bro!" It brings back some semblance of normalcy.

***

Everything is back to normal, Derek is happy to note. He had decided to forgo lunch today in favour of working on his thesis but he sees that he didn't have to. The reason why he skipped lunch--well he knows under layers of denial what that reason is. In the thunderous silence of the lab, he can hear his thoughts with crystal clarity and he doesn't like where his mind has gone to. The moles on Stiles' pale face stretch into beautiful patterns down his back, Derek is sure.

"Derek!"

And that's the pristine silence being shattered into millions of little pieces thanks to Erica and her intruding ways.

"I've been calling you for like, five minutes!", a gross exaggeration, Derek thinks.

"Why is everyone so lost in their heads today? Stiles was staring at his fries all through lunch, and now you."

He looks up from his paper in surprise and finds Erica's eyes piercing through his like she's trying to find something there. A second later, her eyes widen as if she's just realised something and no, Derek doesn't like that one bit. He looks away and pretends like this didn't just happen.

_Been doing that a lot lately._ Shut up, Laura! 

"Dere--"

"You want something?"

"No, I--"

"I need to finish editing this section by tonight."

It usually takes way more than that to get her to back off, but today she just nods at and him and walks out. He can't help but be worried about what she's seen in his eyes, what has she realised that made her walk away so easily.

Shaking off all thoughts of dangerous topics, he dives back in to edit his thesis. He's not on a deadline, per se but he hasn't been working half as hard as he was months ago on research so he really needs to focus if he wants to finish on time. This research is his metaphorical child, after the number of sleepless nights he's spent worrying over the well-being of his thesis, he's sure the state of California would be willing to grant him an adoption certificate.

Everything that he has been researching for this paper has been so intriguing and equally important. History has always held his interest, but looking for papers written in a different time and a different place about something that's still a problem has been a very haunting experience as well. Reading Sigmund Freud's letter to a worried mother about her gay son had kept him awake for two nights.

She wrote to Freud because she wanted him to cure her son of his 'illness'. Freud wrote back and told her it was nothing to be ashamed of and that as long as her son wasn't troubled with his orientation, he couldn't do anything. Learning about things like that is the reason Derek wanted to write a thesis on attitudes toward homosexuality in Germany.

He's in the middle of reading a research paper on the treatment of gays in Auschwitz and other concentration camps when he feels someone watching him. He looks up to find Stiles standing just outside the equipment room with a cardboard box balanced precariously in his hands. He hasn't seen Stiles since that night at the party, and he doesn't know how long he's been standing there.

"I've been here for over an hour, you were too engrossed in your paper", he says by way of explanation. His box wobbles in his hands but Stiles manages to balance it. He looks so vulnerable and yet invincible at the same time, his eyes look like that of a fawn but he stands tall and broad.

"Uh, yeah--I'm on a deadline." 

He nods his head and moves the box a little, clearly it's too heavy but Stiles doesn't make a move to put it down.

"Erica mentioned something at lunch."

He can only nod his head, there's this tension that engulfs them that was never there before. Objectively, he's always known that Stiles is good-looking and he has felt himself being attracted to him, but it's never been this intense. He has never felt like he was being pulled toward Stiles.

"Look, if you didn't come to lunch because of--y'know, then you don't have to--ohhh shii--"

Before Stiles can even finish the sentence, Derek is rushing across the room to save the box from hitting the floor. Stiles stands frozen, looking at Derek with his mouth hanging open and before he even knows what he's doing, Derek's moving closer to Stiles. God, he's so stunning. 

From this close, Derek can see little flecks of gold in his amber eyes, can almost trace the moles on his cheek if he lifts his hand a little, but he doesn't dare. Stiles' lips are parted, he's holding his breath probably waiting for Derek to do something.

There's a moment's pause, Derek can almost feel himself pulling back but Stiles' eyes pull him in. He's not in control when he takes another step, Stiles moves back as Derek moves forward and then he's pinning Stiles to the wall with his chest. He can feel a current run across his skin like a live wire, his fingers are crackling with something as he lifts his hand and with a touch that's barely even there, caresses Stiles' cheek. 

Stiles lets out a stilted breath and Derek is somewhat relieved to know that he isn't the only one being affected by this because his heart is definitely trying to escape through his throat right now. Stiles leans ever so slightly into Derek's hand, his cheek is cold to the touch and Derek feels the weirdest instinct to warm him up. It's such a delicate moment though, he's sure neither of them is breathing right now.

"Derek..."

That's all he says and Derek can feel his blood sizzling in his veins, god he's so out of breath. He has never seen anything as beautiful as Stiles, ever.

Stiles leans his head a little forward, Derek can feel Stiles' breath on his lips and it reminds him of that night. He knows this isn't just attraction or lust, he knows it's much more and that's what scares him. Stiles leans forward imperceptibly, his lips almost touch Derek's but he stills instead of meeting his mouth and his eyes dart across Derek's face, begging to make the next move. Derek's too lost in his eyes to do anything but Stiles coaxes him forward slightly, his soft lips just barely touch Derek's and he feels it in his gut - that feeling that he can't have this, he doesn't deserve this.

He's about to pull back when Stiles reaches out with a trembling hand and settles it on his coarse stubble, it's such a gentle touch that Derek feels fragile. He feels vulnerable, with Stiles touching him like he's something delicate. Stiles' lips brush lightly across his, he can feel all the dips and cuts on Stiles' lips, all the places he bites when he's concentrating on something. It feels like the most intimate thing Derek has ever done.

Intimacy.

He had it once before in his life, with someone who broke every part of him. Left him a hollow shell.

_Stiles deserves more._

It feels like someone has dumped a bucket of ice cold water on his head, he pulls back from Stiles immediately. Stiles lets out a groan of disapproval, his hand goes to the back of Derek's neck in an attempt to reel him back in. It's something an alpha male would do to mark his territory, to show dominance and Stiles doing it to Derek almost brings him to his knees but he resists and pulls out of Stiles' grip.

"What're you doing?"

Stiles looks a mixture of confused and angry. Derek doesn't know how to explain why he has pulled back from the most chaste and yet the most intense kiss of his life.

"I can't."

"What?"

Stiles is looking into his eyes with questioning ones, he's pleading silently but Derek knows he has to be strong if he doesn't want to leave Stiles broken at the end of whatever this is that they're doing. He knows he'll hurt Stiles, he knows it.

"I can't. I haven't been with anyone for so long and I just--I can't."

"If you're worried about not being with someone for a while, don't even. I mean, I've never been with anyone, like ever, like in forever, you're the first person I've ever kissed and I have--"

"That's not the problem."

Stiles stops rambling and just stares, his eyes piercing through Derek's asking questions he doesn't know he can answer.

"Then what's the problem?"

"You. You're the problem."

Before he realises what he's said and can correct himself, Stiles fists his shirt and pulls him forward. Derek can't balance himself in time and ends up crashing into Stiles' chest but he doesn't let go and Derek becomes painfully aware of Stiles' long legs touching his through two layers of clothes, his hard chest pushing against Derek's, his warmth seeping in even through their clothes and his smell, god his smell--

"I'm the problem? You're the one with the hard dick."

He's left staring at Stiles with wide eyes, words are not coming to him and Stiles just waits. They stand like that for a long second before Stiles unhands his shirt and shoves against his chest. Derek stumbles a little as Stiles leans away from the wall. Derek can't help but miss the warmth of Stiles' body next to his.

"Stiles, I--"

"I just want to know, once and for all because I can't do this with you again."

"Again?"

This look of panic crosses Stiles' face, like he's afraid of what he's said and Derek wants to comfort him but he's definitely not the person to do that for Stiles, not right now.

"Just answer me. Is this going to happen or not? I can't keep going back and forth with you."

Stiles looks like he's hurting, his voice almost breaks over the last few words and Derek knows he's the reason.

"I uh--"

"Because you've pushed me away twice now but I know you feel something. I need you to decide, if you tell me no, I'll drop it. Never say anything about this again."

Stiles' eyes are actually like a mirror into his heart, Derek can see that even though he has said the words, it has hurt him immensely to say them. But Derek also knows that there's a reason why he hasn't dated anyone in years. Knows that he'll end up hurting Stiles way worse if he doesn't stay strong right now.

"Okay."

Stiles takes a small step back from him.

"Okay, what?"

"Let's not do this."

He can see that Stiles wants to protest, probably wants to punch some sense into Derek or to beg for an explanation but all he does is nod his head.

"Okay."

And then, he leaves Derek standing there with a forgotten cardboard box full of lab equipment on the floor. It's only when the door slams shut behind Stiles, that Derek lets himself lean against the wall and let out the breath he's been holding for god knows how long.

Stiles has just walked away from Derek with a promise to forget the most beautiful kiss of his life. And Derek doesn't know if he should be angry at himself for asking Stiles to let go, or be angry at Stiles for letting go.

***  
Lydia asks him twice if he's alright and he tells her he's fine both times. She doesn't look convinced at all.

"You can talk to me, you know that, right?"

"I do, but there's nothing to talk about."

She purses her lips and sighs as if this world is a horrible burden to bear. And it is for her, Stiles thinks.

"Obviously, there's something bothering you but if you don't want to share, that's alright."

He gives her a quick hug and drops a kiss on her forehead before excusing himself for schoolwork. He'd dreamt about Derek last night, except in his dream their conversation had gone differently and Derek had pulled him into a kiss rather than telling him he's not what Derek wants.

Now, he's in the library working on a paper for his sexuality class, with a mind clouded with Derek. But he'd promised him yesterday that he will never bring up the kiss again and he never will. He'll think about it some nights when he can't sleep or he'll dream of it till it becomes a distant memory and he actually starts believing that it was a dream. He'll never say it aloud, though.

It does start feeling like a dream after a while. Sometimes, he can feel Derek watching him across the lunch table or when they go out to picnic sometimes on lazy weekends but he's working very hard on not falling for Derek. For the most part, he has convinced himself that this is never going to work out so the decision to forget and move on is not that hard, in the end.

***  
As afraid as he is about things getting weird between them, he almost talks himself out of going to lunch the next day. Just the thought of Erica's wrath focussed on him for missing lunch two days in a row, he sighs and starts walking toward the cafeteria. He really doesn't know what to expect, hoping that any weirdness from being around Stiles won't bleed into their group-time. 

Stiles, on the other hand, looks at him like he always looks at him, like yesterday never happened and goes on to call Derek 'sourwolf'. He doesn't understand why instead of relief, he feels a sharp pain in his gut. He can't even eat anything that day, thankfully no one notices.

After a careful deliberation, he decides that he has no right to blame Stiles for doing exactly what he'd asked of him. Instead, he needs to stop thinking about yesterday and convince himself that it never happened. He almost succeeds at it.

Erica pulls him out of his thoughts by asking if he made the deadline he was working on yesterday.

"Yeah, I uh--I couldn't find enough literature so I'm broadening the sub-topic a little bit."

"Well, I personally would've thought there'd be plenty of research on homosexuality in historical Germany."

Derek's not sure if she's genuinely surprised or if it's another dig at his choice of topic for a thesis. It wouldn't be the first time someone has attacked his choice. Before he can defend himself, Lydia cuts in,

"Your thesis is on homosexuality in Germany? Really?"

The way she says it is very familiar, it sounds like when Laura is smug about having figured something out. Derek has no idea what she means until he sees the look she's giving Stiles. Now, he really wants to know.

"What?"

She turns to him with a fake smile, "Nothing, it's an interesting topic is all."

He can tell that she has just lied to him, probably as a favour to Stiles and he can't help feeling left out when it seems like the conversation is about him. He never does find out what Lydia meant.

And Stiles never once hints that he even remembers what happened between them. Derek knows he was the one who made Stiles drop it but the way Stiles is around him these days makes him doubt that maybe he'd actually dreamt it. Never once does Stiles look at him differently or shy away from his eyes, no, he looks at Derek like Erica or anyone else looks at Derek. It bothers him.

***

They decide to go on a road trip to visit the wolf preserve just outside the Californian border. Interestingly enough, it was Derek who knew about the place since he's been going there ever since his dad took him almost a decade ago. Erica and Lydia both jump at the idea of visiting the preserve on the weekend and no one protests their wishes.

Jackson is throwing a temper tantrum like the four year old that he is. No one looks impressed but most of all, Derek looks like he’s 0.16 seconds away from ripping Jackson a new one. And while Stiles is not exactly against Jackson getting ripped a new one, he is trying to cut back on the violence in his life after his dad had dropped a casual warning last week. So, as unwilling as he is to save Jackson from Derek’s wrath, Stiles bodily steps in between the two.

This is a highly risky step because while he and Derek are on a much better understanding level now, he still doesn’t know for sure that Derek won’t kill him the first chance he gets when he's this pissed. And despite that, Stiles is sacrificing his safety for a dick like Jackson. Stiles should get a Nobel peace prize.

“McCall can just meet us there!”

Jackson’s irritating voice is grating on Stiles’ nerves, he turns away from Jackson’s stupid fucking face to see what everyone else thinks. Derek does his suggestive eyebrow thing as if asking Stiles ‘he could?’ and all Stiles can do is sigh,

“Alright, fine.”

They all start piling into Derek and Lydia's cars when Jackson’s stupid voice interrupts once again.

“Hang on a minute, since when do these two get to make the decisions?”

Derek sighs so loudly that Stiles is sure they heard him all the way across campus. 

“No seriously, last time I checked these two were trying to kill each other and now what, they’re in-charge of us all of a sudden? Who elected them as pack mom and dad?”

No one answers him, Stiles catches Lydia glaring at Jackson which makes him smile but the implication of what Jackson has said isn’t lost on him. It's a good thing Stiles is trained in leaving his problems be till they go away. He makes it a point to not sit next to Derek in his car, which would be his usual place to sit whenever they drive somewhere.

Derek knows the place like the back of his hand and has no qualms about showing them around. Stiles almost adopts a black pup - it looks like a tiny version of the wolf he dreams about - but the owner tells him wolves can't survive in California otherwise Derek would've had a huge pack by now.

Only one poor-sighted joke about being raised by wolves later, Derek is glaring at Stiles and things between them seem to return to normal. After spending the entire day playing around with wolf pups and a few huskies, they decide to drive back to the school before it gets dark. Everyone starts to walk back to the cars they originally sat in except Erica wants to drive back with Lydia instead of Boyd and Derek.

"Stiles, exchange seats with me."

"Why me? I'm happy where I am."

"I'm not and I know Allison and Scott won't move so you have to."

"But--"

"I'll give you extra hours at the lab this week."

As much as he'd like to stand here and argue about employee rights and policies, Derek is impatiently scowling at them so Stiles huffs in annoyance, "Fine, as long as I don't have to sit next to the Incredible Sulk over there."

That earns him a huge laugh from everyone, Erica is leaning against Lydia's car laughing at Derek's face.

"You look like you've swallowed glass and cat poop. Grumpy cat poop!"

"Stiles, stop!"

They seem to be enjoying the insults he's hurling at Derek, who is scowling even harder so Stiles decides to quit while he's ahead.

"Fine, fine, let's go."

On the drive back, Boyd, Isaac and Jackson are asleep in the back seat while Derek is super ninja-trained on the road and that leaves Stiles. A very bored Stiles.

"Hey, did you hear about the new memory aid training with ducks?"

Derek looks away from the road for a quick second to look at Stiles, he shakes his head no.

"Apparently, ducks are great for stress relief and help with like, recovering repressed memories."

Derek makes a vaguely interested sound and that's Stiles' cue to jump into a full-fledged conversation.

“With people who have like repressed memories, they've found that when they watch a duck in a park, it's relaxing and  it helps with remembering. I mean, the duck is near a body of water and not just a park somewhere. It’s not an urban duck.”

“Stiles?”

“Hmm?”

“What are you on?”

He just smiles at Derek, and they both assume it's a coincidence that that's the exact moment that their car almost swerves off the road, and someone honks loudly behind them. Obviously, it had nothing to do with the fact that Derek's eyes got stuck on Stiles' face.

"Whaaa? What's happening?"

Stiles turns around to look at Jackson sleepily rubbing his eyes, "Nothing, there was a roadblock on the way to hell. We'll take the highway, instead."

Jackson flips him off and goes back to leaning his head on Boyd's shoulder peacefully returning to sleep. Stiles leans his head against the headrest and decides to take a nap too. He doesn't open his eyes even when he can feel Derek's eyes on him.

***

"So, Derek is writing a thesis on homosexuality in Germany."

Stiles knew it was going to come back and bite him in the ass, he knew Lydia would remember him researching the topic months ago and that she'd link it with Derek. Fucking fuck.

"Yeah."

She purses her lips in consideration, Stiles hopes she'll drop it before he is forced to think about that night in the lab again. He hasn't let his mind wander, not even when he can feel Derek's eyes watching him. He hasn't thought about that night at all, not even in the privacy of his room.

"Interesting how you were researching the same topic at the start of term."

"Derek always keeps talking about it, I just got curious."

"Not at that time he wasn't. In fact, if I remember correctly you two were going at each other's throats back then."

He knows he has lost, Lydia would never waste her time debating this with him if she didn't suspect something. Stiles doesn't have the energy to play this game with her.

"Lydia, just leave it alo--"

"Why were you researching Derek's thesis topic, Stiles?"

"It's an interesting topi--"

"Is it? You never asked Erica what her thesis was going to be on, or Boyd or Isaac."

"Can we not do this right now? Please, I ju--"

"Is there something going on between you two?"

Something stirs in his gut, if only Derek wanted me, he thinks.

"No, there isn't. I don't know what you're talking about."

"So, you are not attracted to Derek at all, then?"

Now, she's just mocking him because she knows more than anyone else how much he is attracted to Derek. She'd hinted toward knowing way back when they'd all just started getting together as a group. But Stiles was sure back then that nothing would ever come of his attraction, never knew it could become the cluster-fuck that it has.

"I don't--"

"It's not just that, is it?"

Stiles can't bring himself to say anything, he's tired of lying to himself and denying things he knows mean more than anything else. She's looking at him with wide eyes, and all he can do is just stand there looking down on the hardwood floor. It's funny how that reminds him of the Hale house and the intricate woodwork Talia had told him Damien Hale had gotten done in the house.

"Stiles..."

She takes a step forward and a second later, he feels a gentle hand settling on his shoulder. She leans in and pulls him into a warm hug.

"Oh, love."

He lets go for the first time since that night, doesn't tell her anything but allows himself to remember the little details: Derek's hand touching his cheek with nimble fingers, his soft lips brushing ever so slightly on Stiles', his stubble coarse and still soft under Stiles' hand.

_God, he's so gone on Derek._

"You'll be fine, we'll find you a frat boy to fuck and get him out of your system. You're a strong, independent young man, Stiles, who don't need no man."

He finds himself laughing at her serious tone. It isn't very often that Lydia backs off and doesn't badger him with questions and accusations about something that was held back from her. Now, all she does is throw atrocious suggestions at him, and amidst the stupidity of it all, Stiles forgets why they're having this conversation at all.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, credit where credit is due: 
> 
> \- The turn off the lights because he couldn't hear anything is inspired by a tumblr post I saw a while back.  
> \- The Incredible Sulk thing was something I heard on a tv show, and thought that it fit Derek perfectly.   
> \- 'The duck is near a body of water and not just a park somewhere. It’s not an urban duck' is from Dylan Moran's stand up. If you have never heard the guy, go you-tube him right now, you won't regret it!
> 
> Now, I'm an insecure person who doubts and questions and needs you all to comment cuz I need feedback. Yay!


	13. Ain't nobody fucking with my clique

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, ladies and gentlemen. Here is the second part of the upload I promised. This was supposed to happen yesterday but we have already established that I am a lazy fuck, so excuse me. 
> 
> Now, there are few songs mentioned in this chapter. If you haven't heard any of them, do it now. I have it on good authority that listening to them while reading the corresponding bits, improves the reading by quite a bit. These are the songs: I would - One Direction, I want - One Direction, Thinking Out Loud - Ed Sheeran
> 
> Also, enjoy Stiles drinking: http://canloveyoumorethanstan.tumblr.com/post/122231762074

Erica has been asking him weird questions lately and honestly, Derek is not sure how to answer them. Yesterday, she had asked him if he ever felt like he was drowning and the only way he could live was if one person in particular took his hand.

“Erica, are you on something?”

“What? No!”

“Well, you sound like you’ve mixed crack with--”

“You know, you could’ve just said ‘no’.”

“No.”

It isn’t until he’s laying in bed that night wondering if he’ll dream about Stiles looking at him like he's something delicate, that he realises he does know the feeling Erica was talking about.

But Derek is nothing if not an adamant denier of true facts and skillful dodger of important questions.

***

“So Stiles, how’s your bio class going?”

He looks up at Erica’s weird question directed at him, Derek is sitting across from him and from the look on his face, he thinks it’s a weird question too. Derek raises his eyebrow in question, but Stiles just shrugs before turning to face Erica.

“It’s okay, why?”

“Oh just asking, haven’t heard Derek complaining about you in a while.”

Derek perks up at that, he won’t meet Stiles’ eyes but he doesn’t say anything in response either.

“See? Nothing.”

She has a point, Stiles thinks. Derek hasn’t grumbled or growled in class in a while.

“What’s the matter? Going soft in your old age, Captain Rogers?”

As much as Stiles is trying to get a rise out of him, Derek doesn’t respond. And it bothers him, it really bothers him when Derek doesn’t even look up from his stupid paper.

He feels that old longing settling in his gut, back when he didn’t know who Derek Hale was and all he wanted was to see the boy who had saved him years ago. It’s something he has tried hard to forget, to leave behind so no, he doesn’t want that longing coming back.

“Seriously? You’re not even gonna growl at me today?”

All Derek does is look up for a brief second and mumble, “I don’t have time for this.”

That sets something alight in Stiles, just one stupid comment from Derek. And it is stupid, the way he feels a calm numbness settling in his chest.

He has noticed how it irks him when he doesn’t see Derek for a while, how it really gets under his skin when Derek doesn’t look up at him in favour of staring at his papers. It doesn’t make much sense, Stiles knows he is attracted to Derek but he also knows that that’s not what this is. He knows that attraction is not why he doesn’t like it when Derek’s eyes won’t meet his across the table but he doesn't allow himself to dwell on it.

“Oh, Mr. Darcy! You’re such a dick, but you’re so sexy when you’re sulky and moody, Mr. Darcy!”, he says with a hand on his chest like a heroin from one of those trashy love novels, ready to swoon at the hero’s feet any second.

Derek does look up at that, a small smile plays on his lips for a quick second, his eyes do that crinkly thing they do and that’s it. That’s all Stiles wanted to see.

He throws a half-salute at Derek before getting up from the table and announcing his departure to everyone. He has work to get to, and if he’s a few minutes late it’s okay.

He can feel eyes on his back as he walks away, and it settles something in him. It reminds him of that dream he has of the little boy and his wolf.   

***

Lydia is going on about some party on-campus, trying to convince them all to go. She says it’s because they should be social and meet people but Stiles has an inkling of a doubt about her intentions. She keeps asking about Scott’s RA Jordan, and given that he’s the one who had told them about this party in the first place, Stiles thinks he might be part of the reason why Lydia wants to go.

“Come on, it’ll be fun. We can get drunk and--”

“I have a paper to write.”

He doesn’t look up from his book but he can feel the heat of Lydia’s glare on the side of his face. When no one says anything for a while, Stiles sighs and does look up to find Lydia staring at him.

“What?”

“We both know you won’t write the paper a few hours before it’s due so cut the crap, Stiles.”

He has no response to that because she’s right, it’ll be a miracle if he finishes the paper before the deadline.

“Okay but I do have to study for my lab test and--”

“When did you get so boring, Stiles?”

“I’m not boring, Erica, it’s called being a good student.”

“Wow! That’s Derek speaking right through you, man.”

“No, it is not. I’m just embracing my true self is all. I mean, learning is very important--”

“Something’s wrong here, what is it, Stiles?”

Everyone is looking at him now waiting for an answer and he doesn’t even know what to say. He can’t just tell them that he doesn’t want to go to the party because they’ll all get paired up and he’ll be left to fend for himself.

He’s not complaining but he kind of is. Every time they all go out, everyone pairs up leaving Stiles - and sometimes Derek on the rare occasion that he joins them - in an awkward position to socialise. And he can’t say this because Lydia will aggressively try to set him up with someone.

Also, not to mention the very delicate balance he and Derek are currently maintaining thanks to the detour that was taken last time the were both at a party. Just being reminded of laying in the grass next to Derek talking about things they both hold dear sends a chill up his spine and he absolutely refuses to look across the table at Derek to see if he has figured out the reason Stiles doesn’t want to go.

So, basically he’s left gesticulating wildly and saying something he doesn’t completely understand himself.

“I’d rather be caught dead than be at that party when all of you’re playing tonsil hockey with each other. Dead.”

“Why do you have to be so morbid all the time, Stilinski?”

“It’s not unusual to be dead. More people are dead than are alive.”

“I’m trying to make plans here, Stiles, god you’re so insufferable!”

All protests die on his tongue when he catches movement behind Derek, and what he sees when he squints is something he couldn’t ever have dreamt of even with his pretty wild imagination.

“Um, Allison, is that not your dad?”

Every single person turns around to look in the direction he’s pointing in with a very shaky hand. And then, it gets dead silent, everyone’s protests about him being a spastic asshole just shrivel up and die,

“And is that Jordan Parrish kissing him like he’s got state secrets hidden under his tongue?”

Derek kicks him under the table and he’s in enough shock that he can’t even control the loud squeal that escapes before he can stop it,

“Eeeeeeeeeep.”

“You okay, Stiles?”

Erica’s looking at him with raised eyebrows - man, does Derek teach them how to do the eyebrow thing in the mirror or something - and a blank face. If Stiles has learned anything from being around Lydia for years, it is to fear the blank face. _Run from it, Stiles. Run while you still can. Run for your lif--_

“You look all flushed, everything okay?”

Her eyes narrow in curiosity and that’s making him nervous. And when Stiles is nervous, he rambles so no wonder he says what he says next.

“Well, I did just witness Scott’s hot RA practically screw Allison’s dad against his fucking beauty of a car. In leather jackets, they’re dry-humping and wearing leather jackets while doing it! Excuse me if I need two minutes to recover from that mental image!”

“Got a thing for older men with stubble, Stiles?”

He has no idea how he managed to not die from choking on the fries he was shoving in his mouth. And he probably never wants to know how gross he looked throwing them back out when Erica asked her question loaded with suggestion. No, these are things Stiles doesn’t want to know.

***

Derek skips bio that day. 

**3:47 PM from Erica: Stiles jst told me u skppd class??!!! R u ok???**

He sighs, putting the phone down. Erica has a right to panic because Derek has never skipped  class, in his four years at Berkeley. That’s because he never had a good enough reason to, being sick never counted as a reason to miss school. Neither did any tests or papers to write.

Now, less than a month away from graduation, he seems to have found a reason.

**3:49 PM from Erica: Is this abt wht I said yday?**

It is.

_"If you’re falling for someone, that’s okay. Whatever happened, happened years ago. I know it’ll always be a part of you but Derek, it’s okay to want someone else. You’ve been by yourself for years now, and if you want to be with someone now, that’s okay."_

He had just told her she was wrong and he thought nothing of the sort.

**3:52 PM from Erica: Jst tll me u’re ok**

**3:53 PM from Derek: I’m fine.**

She doesn’t text him after that, but he knows she’ll want to know everything when he sees her. Thing is, even he doesn’t know what is going on.

Erica has been dropping hints for weeks as if she knows something and Derek had no clue what she meant until he figured it out two days ago. All her coy smiles and her vaguely suggestive comments make sense now.

She was the one who hired Stiles and brought him into their lives. She was the one who planned them getting locked in the bio lab. She’s the one who has been making off-handed comments about Stiles in front of him. She’s the one asking weird questions about drowning.

And on top of everything else, she has the _audacity_ to tell him that it’s okay if he’s falling for someone.

He spends three hours pushing himself to the brink, his body is complaining but he can’t stop himself. It’s dark outside by the time he gets back to his loft from the four-mile run. Maddening thoughts are still swirling around in his mind and apart from the pain in his muscles, nothing has changed from this afternoon.

He’s still confused and angry.

_When did he let Stiles  become more than the annoying freshman in his bio class who never shuts up?_

_When did he let Stiles in?_

_When did he let his stupid attraction become this??!!_

For years, he hasn’t even thought of anyone in that way because it repelled him. The thought of being with someone repelled him. And now he can’t go two nights without dreaming of pale skin and a constellation of moles dotting it.

He throws the keys in the bowl by the door and walks over to the kitchen counter. With his elbows on the counter and his head in his hands, he takes a deep breath and for the first time admits it to himself.

He’s falling for Stiles.

The dreams have been happening since last month but Derek has always been good at denying and suppressing. He’s been lying to himself, standing in front of the mirror in the morning and not meeting his own eyes because he’s scared of what he’ll see there.

He’s caught himself staring at Stiles a few times, forced himself to look away and walk away. Gone on runs for miles so the pain in his calves will distract him from the ache he feels in his chest. He’s done a good job of denying it all so far.

But right now, leaning against the kitchen slab with his hands fisted in his hair in sheer frustration, he can’t deny it anymore. A pained groan rips loose from his lips before he can stop it, pure anger and helplessness coursing through him.

He has fallen for Stiles.

***

It gets even more hectic because the semester is almost over and suddenly everyone is getting sick with flu. Every class Stiles is in, someone has come in sneezing and coughing and looking like death warmed up. Which is why he isn’t the least bit surprised when he wakes up in the middle of the night with a fever and a sore throat. Fucking flu.

And just like every other time he’s sick, he wants to be in bed all day, wrapped up like a burrito. And he gets homesick. So, naturally he calls his dad first thing in the morning.

“Morning, daddy-o!”

“You sound like you’ve got a furball stuck in your throat.”

“Tell me what you really think, dad.”

“No seriously, Stiles, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just have a sore throat and possibly flu.”

“Oh no, kid. You eat anything yet?”

“No, I just woke up. To be honest, I don’t wanna get out of bed at all.”

“Is there someone who can get you soup or something?”

“Yeah, I’ll just call Lydia after I hang up.”

“Okay, as long as you got someone there.”

“Yup, I’ll be fine. How’re you doing?”

“Oh I’m fine, son. Just traffic violations and old ladies with lost cats, you know how Beacon Hills is.”

“Well, as long as you eat healthy and don’t climb up trees to retrieve cats, I’m fine with it.”

“Oh come on, Stiles. I’m the most athletic officer at the Station. Of course, I’m the one who retrieves cats.”

“You better be joking, dad, or I will drive down there and confiscate your badge, old man.”

“You just take care of yourself, son. I’ll be fine here. Oh, and what about your birthday? You still having a party?”

“I don’t know dad, I mean I don’t feel like it now that I’m sick.”

“Well, you do have a choice. And I’ll be very happy and relieved if you didn’t go out and got drunk at a shady club.”

“I agree, old man. But the North Korean army could not keep Lydia under control when it comes to event planning and she wants a party.”

“Do you need me to have a word with her?”

“Yeah right, like you won’t fold like a deck of cards at her feet. I remember how she manipulated you that time she ran away from the hospital, you were ready to fire your deputy because she didn’t like the guy.”

“Okay, fair point. But I still say, tell her how you feel about a party. Maybe she can reschedule or something.”

“Lydia Martin does not reschedule but thanks for the advice. I’ll deal with it, you tell me what’s happening with you.”

“Oh same old same old, watched the game last night over at Melissa’s.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t start with me, kid.”

“I wasn’t--”

“Oh please, you and Scott have been trying to match-make since the start of high-school just so you two can be brothers. You don’t fool me anymore, Genim.”

He pauses at that.

It’s been awhile since he and his dad got into so much banter that Genim slipped out instead of Stiles.

“I’m sorry, son, I didn--”

“It’s alright, dad. I think I might like it if you uh--wanted to use it again.”

“Okay.”

And then, his dad asks him about school and how he’s settling in, what his schedule is like usually when he’s not sick.

“Oh, I go to classes and then eat and read a little. I also have a nap scheduled for most days.”

“That’s all you do with your day?”

“Did you not hear about that nap situation?”

“Yeah just go away, alright? Before I have a headache worrying about you.”

“Ouch. That hurt, father.”

“Yeah well it’s going to hurt more if I hear anything about you snooping around or getting drunk every weekend.”

“When have I ever?”

“Aren’t you sick? Go back to sleep, son. I can feel my blood pressure rising.”

“Are you eating too much grease, is that why--”

“Bye, Stiles. Take care.”

He gets hung up on my his dad. Well, that’s not embarrassing at all. But he sleeps off the embarrassment and the sick by sleeping for 21 hours straight.

The second day of sickness sees Stiles all jacked up on flu medication. Let it be said that Stiles is the cheapest drunk around, two spoons of cough syrup get him going. Which is why he is currently in his room with a blanket cape loudly singing a One Direction song while every single person in their little mismatched group looks on with wide eyes.

Scott had come bearing soup the second he heard Stiles was sick, Lydia wasn’t far behind with a big order of Chinese that she knew Stiles always craved when he was sick. Seriously, he has awesome friends. Even Erica had brought him food and she sucked at cooking, according to Isaac and Boyd. Derek had shown up just five minutes ago, frowning at the little crowd in the tiny room. Stiles had just finished eating his sweet and sour chicken and taken his cough syrup, and it had already gone to his brain. Currently, he’s on his bed singing off-key songs.

Even Jackson is staring silently as Stiles belts out the poppiest of pop songs. And everyone knows Take Me Home was the best album, so shut up, Erica!

 _**He drives to school every morning** _  
_**While I walk alone in the rain** _  
_**He'd kill me without any warning** _  
_**If he took a look in my brain** _

_**Would he say he's in L-O-V-E?** _  
_**Well if it was me then I would, I would** _  
_**Would he hold you when you're feeling low?** _  
_**Baby you should know that I would, I would** _

_**Would he say he's in L-O-V-E?** _  
_**Well if it was me then I would, I would** _  
_**Would he hold you when you're feeling low?** _  
_**Baby you should know that I would, I would** _

He’s enjoying himself so much right now, this is how the world should always be. This song is the best, it’s perfect music and yeah, it does sound like a childish song but that’s only till you sing along and then it’s totally a pick-me-up song every sick person should sing.

 _**Would he please you?** _  
_**Would he kiss you?** _  
_**Would he treat you like I would?** _  
_**Would he touch you?** _  
_**Would he need you?** _  
_**Would he love you like I would?** _

Erica is pointing at him and laughing but any dignity Stiles had flew out the window when that second spoonful of flu medicine settled in his stomach. All he feels right now is bliss.

He couldn’t give a less of a fuck right now. Derek is leaning against the far wall, his eyes are following every single movement but Stiles’ drug-addled brain is not equipped to deal with that can of worms so he just looks away and jumps into the next verse,

 _**Would he say he's in L-O-V-E?** _  
_**Well if it was me then I would, I would)** _  
_**Would he hold you when you're feeling low?** _  
_**Baby you should know that I would** _

_**I would, I would.** _

He bows in front of them as if he’s just conducted for the London Symphony Opera, and they all laugh at his antics.

“Any requests?”

Erica and Lydia and talking over each other while Scott is trying to get him to sing Ice Ice Baby but that’s a dark part of Stiles’ past that he would not like to relive, thank you very much.

In the midst of all this commotion, Stiles feels like he’s in a boyband doing a world tour with fans requesting songs except Jackson is an asshole who has to ruin everything.

“You’re so fucking weird, Stilinski. I’m out of here.”

Literally no one even bats an eye at douche-nugget’s dramatic exit. Erica is trying to get him to sing ‘I Want’ and who is he to turn down an honest-to-god request.

Derek tries to break it up by telling them all that Stiles needs to rest. Hah, as if Stiles can go to sleep when he’s this jacked up on drugs and adrenalin so no one pays Derek any attention and he slinks back into the background.

“Well, I don’t know all the lyrics to that one so put up a lyrics video.”

And then, they’re off. Erica and he on his bed screaming along to the lyrics.

 _**You could be preoccupied** _  
_**Different dick every night** _  
_**You just got to say the word--** _

He can’t even finish because Erica is laughing at his lyric change from ‘date’ to ‘dick’, everyone else is just enjoying the madness. It’s raining outside and they’re all crowded into Stiles’ little dorm room. It’s not a bad setup at all, actually.

At some point, Stiles started taking requests for imitating people and Isaac is pissed at him because Stiles pulled the blanket around his neck to make into a ‘scarf’ and then just said, “Derek is always right, he is god.” as an imitation of Isaac.

The guy hadn’t found that funny while everyone else had lost their shit because that was spot on. That is basically what Isaac does, wears scarves and worships at Derek’s feet.

“Okay, do Derek.”

Now, that is an interesting request. Stiles lets his eyes wander over to Derek, still leaning against the wall. If Stiles is not wrong, that’s a challenge in Derek’s eyes. Well then, challenge accepted.

He steps down from the bed and goes to stand next to the nearest wall. In a high-pitched voice meant to be Erica, he says “Why are you doing this, Derek?”

Okay, this is the tricky part. He pulls his eyebrows into a frown and makes his voice go as deep as he can, “Why, you ask? That’s such a pointless question. The answer is obvious.”

They’re all looking at him with anticipation, everyone except Derek who is busy glaring at the floor in that ‘I’m ignoring you because you’re annoying, Stiles, but I’m also pissed at you’ way.

He takes a breath and leans his hand against the wall, “Because I want to.”

There’s a moment of pin-drop silence before someone snickers loudly and the next thing he knows, everyone is guffawing and laughing.

“That’s perfect Derek.”

Stiles takes a small bow and goes to sit down at his bed. When he passes Derek - a pissed off Derek - he winks playfully with a small smile flirting at his lips. He thinks Derek’s ears turn red but maybe he’s just imagining things.

Next, he’s asked to do Erica. He honestly doesn’t want to upset her and wake up with his guts on the floor. So, he choses to do a mild imitation.

“Okay, so this is me going to Erica to ask her something.”

He rolls his shoulders and says, “Erica, where's Derek?”

He moves his about head as if he was flipping long hair over his shoulder and then looks up with a straight face and says, “Do I look like a SATNAV?”

Isaac is surprisingly the one who bursts out laughing, but one menacing eyebrow raise from Erica and he shuts it down.

Stiles goes back into character, “Erica, I need to see him because I have to show him something. I've been working on some new tests recently--”  
He cuts himself off like Erica would do to him and looks down at his nails, bored, “My nerves are the only thing you've been working on recently, Stilinski. And I don’t wanna sound presumptuous or negative in any way but I think you need to really consider the idea of um, getting a life."

“And that, ladies and gents, is Ms. Erica Reyes.”

He manages to not mortally offend anyone and he’s tired enough to lug himself off to bed. They start disappearing one by one, Lydia leaves cough and flu pills by his bed and orders him to text her if he feels even a little bit worse. Scott refuses to leave and Stiles gives in after a bit, even if Scott has to sleep on the stupid couch so he doesn’t catch the flu from Stiles.

Derek is the last one to leave. He hasn’t said anything to Stiles pretty much all night. All he’s done is look at him worriedly and Stiles can’t deal with Derek Hale looking at him with concerned eyes.

When Scott gets up and rushes off to the bathroom, Derek finally pushes off the wall and starts walking toward the bed. Stiles can feel his heart literally thumping in his chest, watching Derek slowly walking toward him while he’s under a nest of blankets.

“Did you eat something?”

Oh god, the sincerity in those words makes him tremble, and Derek notices this and his response is to bend down and bring the back of his hand up to Stiles’ forehead and whisper, “You have a fever?”

Stiles can’t help the sigh that escapes his lips when he feels the coldness of Derek’s skin against his. It’s not even romantic or anything, it’s just comfort. The familiar way Derek’s fingers brush against his skin, and the concern lining his voice.

For some reason, Stiles doesn’t feel home-sick for that one moment.

And then, Derek pulls back his hand probably because he heard Stiles’ sigh just now. They’re left in an awkward silence, Stiles is looking up at Derek through his nest of blankets and Derek is looking right back.

“Oh Derek, I thought you’d have left by now!”

Stiles looks away guiltily, cursing Scott in his mind for breaking the trance. Derek is quick to recover, he says goodnight and disappears before Scott can even wipe his face on the towel.

Stiles closes his eyes and lays there trying not to think of Derek’s fingers brushing against his skin. Eventually, sleep takes over and if he dreams about gentle fingers caressing his cheek, then no one has to know.

***  
Apparently, Jackson catches the flu the exact day that Stiles feels better. He’s still laughing about it hours later as they go to Mrs. Benedetto’s for pizza dinner. Stiles is absolutely ecstatic because he hasn’t been here since Cora went back and yeah, he should text her later, it’s been so long since they’ve talked.

“Stiles, will you wipe that smile off your face? He’s seriously sick.”

“I actually feel sorry for Jackson, I think.”

Scott looks at him like Stiles has literally stabbed him in the back, which their shared hatred of Jackson has always made their bro-bond stronger, so yeah Stiles can see why.

In response, he just grins at Scott,“Oh no, just wind.”

And then they high-five like the six year olds that they are. Lydia does not look pleased at all. Thankfully, Erica breaks up the angry staring with a question.

“If you really can’t stand Jackson, then how come you eat at the same table as him almost everyday?”

He’d glare at her for enjoying his misery but she looks genuinely interested so he sighs and launches into the most painful explanation of his life, “Well, you see, my fierce dragon lady, Lydia loves Jackson. That’s why I started hating him, as I had a crush of epic proportions on Lydia. But then, Jackson showed us how much of a dick he is by shoving Scott and I into lockers, hurting us on the lacrosse field, just jock-bullying activities, in general.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Lydia looking down at her hands. They’ve had this discussion before, Lydia had been enraged when she realised that Jackson was bullying Scott and Stiles. She had gotten Jackson to apologize and he really loved Lydia so he had begrudgingly said sorry.

“Eventually, Lydia realised just how awesome I am and we started hanging out a bit. I got over my crush, but I still think she is goddess. So yeah, we became a group at some point and Lydia and Jackson are a package deal, so are Scott and I so here we are. As much as I despise Jackson, Lydia is important to me so I tolerate his face.”

Erica hums thoughtfully, as if she’s actually picturing them all in high-school in the midst of all the drama that went down. It had been weird, when Lydia had talked to him in the cafeteria and Stiles had caught the look of shock on every single student’s face. Their little group had become quite inseparable in the past year as Allison and Scott, and Lydia and Jackson were the super couples while Stiles was the scrawny one who Lydia really liked.

Erica cuts off his trip down memory lane, “So, are you and Jackson together, then?”

He winces slightly because that’s a question you don’t ask Lydia. Things have been weird between her and Jackson ever since he went to London for a month without telling anyone, not even Lydia. It didn’t end well.

“Not at the moment”, Lydia replies in a clipped tone that would inform anyone that she wasn’t interested in talking about this anymore. Erica wasn’t anyone, though.

“So you’re taking a break? Does he know that?”

Stiles winks at her Friend’s reference and mumbles, “I understood that reference.” She winks right back at him and says, “And I understood that reference.”

He feels that heat on the back of his neck that means someone is looking at him. He jerks his eyes up from the table and finds Derek staring at him, his lips pressed into a thin line. He’s about to mouth ‘what’ at him but Lydia interrupts, “He does.”

Erica raises her hands in a placating manner, because Lydia can be really scary for someone who’s hardly 5 feet tall. Smart move, Erica.

Just then, a server arrives with their pizza and Stiles’ stomach growls as if he didn’t already know he was starving. And the perfect cheese to sauce ratio on the pizza is the only reason he looks away from Derek.

***  
Erica is once again looking at him like she knows something and is trying very very hard not to bring it up. Derek is grateful that she’s at least trying, but the looks she keeps shooting him are making him very nervous as he sits in Mrs. Benedetto’s trying to eat pizza.

Stiles is obviously enjoying the hell out of this, he remembers Cora telling him that she and Stiles had come here when she visiting and that Stiles had also fallen in love with Mrs. Benedetto’s cooking. And when Stiles is eating anything, let alone the best pizza in the world, he makes a show out of it.

Well, Stiles doesn’t know it’s a show but Derek, personally, feels like there should be a ticket price charged to see Stiles eating. His face is lit up because food, and his otherwise dormant oral fixation really shines when he pulls out a slice of pizza and there are cheese string so he uses his fucking ~~long and lean~~ fingers to break them off. And of course, cheese is literally sticking to his lips so he obviously has to swipe his tongue out to play with the poor cheese string before he licks it off and--it’s fucking filthy.

He has to force himself to look away, this is getting ridiculous. He’s starting to doubt his own abilities to be around Stiles without doing something he’ll later regret. He’s already don’t it once, although he can’t bring himself to regret that night in the lab.

Okay, he needs to stop thinking about this. Now.

“Derek?”

He turns to his right to find Allison looking at him expectantly. Had she asked him something?

“Yeah?”

“I asked if you don’t like the pizza.”

Before he can answer, Stiles jumps in with “Oh he loves pizza here, remember that time we were talking about favourite food places and you said this was your top second after that Indian place in Beacon Hills?”

Derek’s dumbfounded because no, he doesn’t remember having said that ever simply because he never brings up Beacon Hills in a conversation ever. Also, he can’t believe Stiles would remember something like that.

Apparently, Erica is also thinking the same thing because she snaps her head to face Stiles and then Derek, in quick succession.

“What?”

“When did you have this conversation?”

“Uh, I don’t know--a while ago. Why?”

“Nothing. I didn’t know Derek liked Indian is all.”

Oh god, she’s doing that ‘we’re gonna have a talk later’ face. He has to nip this in the bud before there’s more passive-aggressive comments from her.

“I don’t necessarily like Indian, I just like how that place does Indian.”

“I know right, I absolutely love their shahi paneer, I would kill a man for it.”

There’s silence across the table at Stiles’ sinister confession because the way he’s said it, Derek is sure he would kill someone for food. Also, on a side note, Derek would also be up for some mild maiming for shahi paneer (he could never pronounce it right, even though he can spell it in his mind but of course, Stiles - the fucking master of languages - says it perfectly and just hearing him say it makes Derek ~~drool~~ hungry).

“Anyway, moving on from Stiles’ disturbing homicidal tendencies, what are we going to do about this idiot’s birthday party?”

Derek can’t look up in surprise at that, he had no idea Stiles’ birthday was coming up. Although, in fairness, there was that time Scott and Stiles had sat behind him in bio talking about Stiles turning 19 and finally getting into clubs. That’s a thought he doesn’t want to dwell on, no thanks.

“Uh Lyds, I wanted to talk to you about that, actually.”

He looks nervous for some reason and the worst Derek can think of is that Stiles is going to say he wants to celebrate his 19th in a shady club somewhere so Lydia doesn’t have to plan a party.

“Go on.”

It’s like watching a show-down, a duel at noon. Lydia is in predator mode while Stiles just won’t meet her eyes.

“Um, I was thinking that maybe we can not have a party?”

“What kind of a stupid thought is that?”

“I just--I’ve just had a near death experience and I’m looking at life differen--”

Lydia rolls her eyes so hard that Derek’s afraid they’re going to pop out of her head and roll onto the pizza.

“You had the flu, Stiles.”

“Yeah well, it was a close brush with death and I realized that I don’t want a party.”

“Well, what do you want then?”

Derek loses his breath when Stiles eyes briefly land on him before looking away at Lydia again. He can’t deal with this, he absolutely cannot. No.

“I just want you guys around on the holy day I was bestowed upon this world, that’s all.”

Erica coos as if Stiles is a puppy, which yes, his level of cute is at par with a tiny golden retriever and did Derek seriously just compare Stiles to a puppy?

“Erica, stop ‘awwing’, and Stiles, did you hit your head or something? You’re finally going to be legal in California and you don’t want a party but to be ‘around us’? Are you turning 19 or 90?”

“Hey woah, don’t be ageist. And there’s nothing wrong with wanting to be around my motherfucking clique?”

“We are not a clique!”

“Yes, we are.”

“Stiles, we’ve talked about this. Stop saying that word.”

“Fine, if you drop the party thing.”

“Fine.”

***  
Stiles is absolutely loving turning 19. He’s had two shots of tequila, _legally_ , and the world is beautiful.

“Did you know that the Welsh word for microwave is poppty-ping?”

“Stiles, get down from there, please.”

“This is my day, Lydia! I can stand on the table if I want to.”

“Yeah well, this is the cafeteria and they will kick you out if you don’t step down now.”

“Who will? Bring them forth!”

Scott puts his head in his hands with a loud groan. Derek is so lost right now. He’d turned up for lunch to find Stiles standing on top of their usual table with huge heart shaped glasses on his face and a stupid smile.

“Oh god, he’s talking like he’s in 1670, that’s not a good sign.”

“Scotty, you are my right-hand man, my commander-in-chief! Bring me the head of this fool who wishes to remove me from this table!”

Derek is caught between laughing at Stiles’ stupid antics and pulling him down from the table because people are starting to pay attention to the idiot speaking like he’s in a period drama.

“Stiles, get down from there!”

“Not yet, my strawberry blonde goddess. I shall taste the blood of these ignorant fools first!”

“I’m gonna call your dad.”

That gets his attention, the stupid idiot is squinting at Lydia as if that’s going to get her to back off.

“Yes, do call upon my father. Tell him his son has finally become a man!”

Lydia face palms so hard that a freshman walking by them actually startles and jumps at the sound. Derek is literally two seconds away from pulling Stiles down from the table.

“Derek, there you are! You are the bravest soldier in all the land and you shall fight by my side.”

Derek is about to answer him when the girl who’s usually behind the counter comes over, looking nervous as hell. She awkwardly waves at them before turning to look at Stiles.

“Um, excuse me, could you climb down from the table, please?”

He wants to close his eyes, because this is like a highway wreck: he doesn’t want to look but he just has to.

“Not yet, my fair lady!”

The girl flushes under Stiles’ keen eyes, Derek does not approve of the direction this is going in at all.

“I shall first announce my betrothal. I, Genim Stilinski, am to wed the fairest maiden in all land, Miss Erica Reyes. Would you do me the honour, my love?”

He feels a flash of hot jealousy in his chest, this is a stupid prank and he knows it but just the way Stiles is currently holding out his hand for Erica to climb the table and the way he kisses her cheek like it’s a promise, Derek is absolutely livid. He makes a hasty retreat before anyone notices.

***

He is fuming.

Absolutely fuming, and he’s not the only one. Boyd looks slightly upset which in Boyd-speak means he is pissed. At Stiles, no doubt, because Erica has not shut up about the stupid little skit this afternoon. She phoned her mother in Alabama to tell her about this, in detail.

“--just so romantic. I mean I know he was hammered but that boy knows how to treat a girl!”

Boyd’s face flashes with something cold before it settles back into the mask of indifference.

“Did you see how he asked me up on the table? And people thought we were actually getting engaged. This girl came up to me later and said, ‘your boyfriend is so adorable and fucking hot’! I didn’t know how to tell her it wasn’t real.”

That’s it. He can’t sit here listening to her gushing about Stiles.

“Try ‘this is Boyd, my actual boyfriend.’”

Erica’s face transforms so quick, gone is the soft glow of happiness and her eyes actually darken when she looks at Derek.

“Oh, excuse me for playing along with a friend. Didn’t know it bothered you so much to see Stiles talking to someone else.”

He sees it before he hears it, and he tries to stop her - ”Erica, don’t.”

“Don’t take that tone with me, Derek. I’m not the one running away from my feelings.”

Boyd looks up sharply from the kitchen counter he was busy staring at. Derek can actually feel the temperature dropping in the room.

“Erica--”

“That’s right, I’m done playing your little game of cat and mouse. You need to decide, and if you’re going to keep running, then stop getting jealous over him talking to someone!”

“I’m not jealous.”

Old habits die hard. Erica’s lips turn down into a sad smile but Derek can’t help old habits. Can’t help but deny what he truly feels.

“When will you stop running, Der?”

He takes a deep breath and says the one thing he keeps repeating to himself over and over every night.

“I can’t pretend I don’t know how this is going to end.”

She doesn’t say anything, just shakes her head and walks out of the loft without another word. Boyd gets up to follow her, and pats his shoulder as he passes by.

Now, he’s left alone in his loft thinking just how fucking deep he already is.

***

Stiles is feeling awesome!

“Yes, we know.”

Apparently, he’d said that out loud. Oh well.

“Do you realise you’re saying all of this out loud?”

“I know.” He didn’t, he thought he was thinking this. Like, inside his head.

“Yeah, right!”

“C’mon, Scott, don’t be a dick.”

“You’re hammered and it’s 3PM on a Wednesday, Stiles.”

“It’s my birthday, Scott! I woke up with a shot this morning!”

“I know, I was there.”

He settles down on the grass in between Scott and Lydia. They’re sitting in the garden by the Botany building. Stiles had proposed to Erica in front of a full cafeteria and apparently that meant he’s had too much to drink so Lydia had physically dragged him out of there.

“Are you mad that I didn’t propose to you, Lyds?”

“No.”

Which means she totally is.

“Oh come on, everyone knows you were my first love.”

She just purses her lips and doesn’t say anything. Alright, Stiles has to mend this. He crawls on his hands and knees to move in front of her, he cannot risk standing up right now and jostling his stomach.

She looks mildly interested as he gets himself situated.

 _**Darling, I will be loving you 'til we're 70** _  
_**And, baby, my heart could still fall as hard at 23** _  
_**And I'm thinking 'bout how people fall in love in mysterious ways** _  
_**Maybe just the touch of a hand** _  
_**Well, me - I fall in love with you every single day** _  
_**And I just wanna tell you I am** _

A slow smile appears on her blood red lips and Stiles feels something settling inside him. If someone had told 14-year old Stiles that he’d be singing a romantic song to Lydia Martin on his knees and she’d smile like the sun shining from behind the clouds, he’d have called Scott’s mum to report a patient missing from the mental ward of the hospital.

But it’s happening right now and Stiles wants to time travel and tell his old self to hang in there.

Except, it’s not the kind of happiness he always thought being with Lydia would bring him. No, it’s companionable happiness he feels right now.

The person he really wants to fall to his knees for isn’t here. The person he wants to sing this song to, and dance with to this tune, isn’t here. He’s off somewhere pretending that he didn’t give Stiles the most memorable kiss of his life.

Well, Stiles is ace at pretending. He’s been pretending to be fine for years now when every single night, he dreams of a happier time and every single morning he struggles to get out of bed.

“Stiles?”

He jumps at Lydia’s voice. Right, he’s with them.

“Are you still mad?”

“No, I just wish you didn’t have to be sad today.”

“I’m not sad.”

She just smiles at him, doesn’t try to argue with him. Well, Stiles can deal with life when he’s got friends like Lydia and Scott by his side. His dad had called early this morning and lectured him for a full half hour about cops he knew in Berkeley who would be happy to do him a favour.

He has spent the full day surrounded by his friends, even Jackson. And he’s in a good place.

His mom would be proud.

***  
He runs. Ever more than before.

He hides, doesn’t go to lunch with everyone else anymore. It’s been three days, he hasn’t seen Stiles outside of bio and he’s so tempted to just go find Stiles and be around him but he remembers why he’s doing this.

Erica had told him to make a decision. He knows she was right, he can’t push Stiles away and also get jealous over him. So, he’s made it, the decision.

He’s going to maintain his distance. He won’t stop seeing Stiles, he can’t do that to himself or to Stiles. No, he’s just going to distance himself a little. Talk less so that he won’t hear Stiles saying stupid things that make him fall harder. So he doesn’t gets stuck staring at Stiles and losing his breath.

So yeah, that’s going well.

Laura hasn't threatened him with bodily harm in more than a week. Cora has finally started texting him random jokes, like she’s ready to let him back in.

And Derek is feeling pretty good in general.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Give me all the feedback! Give it to me!  
> Parrish looks like this in that scene: https://33.media.tumblr.com/8dbcff9d3d2f18d1243673bb1f7d0971/tumblr_npl9dhXTDs1tc7j4yo2_500.gif
> 
> Credit: None of these gifs belong to me, I reblogged them at some point and so they're on my blog but I will source them. Sources: http://pondlifeforme.tumblr.com/post/57021116255/the-you-little-shit-squint  
> http://lidorodriguez.tumblr.com/post/108914722411  
> http://litoyhernando.tumblr.com/post/76487039104
> 
> PS - I learnt how to put photos on Ao3 and I may have overdone it  
> PPS - I would also kill for shahi paneer


	14. Maybe I'm too busy being yours to fall for somebody new

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter was mostly goofy stuff because I wanted to establish a baseline for what these guys' lives look like on a regular basis apart from the angst. I, personally, felt that Stiles and Derek needed to learn more about each than what they already knew, to get to know each other a bit better by being part of the group rather than just keep interacting with each other. Anyway, I think this one will be a more interesting read!
> 
> *Title from: Do I wanna know? - Artcic Monkeys

Derek is angry about something and Stiles is not sure what. In all their interactions so far, Derek has never come right out and said what’s on his mind so Stiles is not exactly surprised when he has to guess what he’s done to piss Derek off this time.

All he knows is that Derek has been ignoring him more than usual lately. Stiles can’t remember having an unusual conversation with him or saying anything that could have made Derek angry.

The only clue is that Erica has been kinda weird lately, she’s been looking at him like she knows something. He would ask her if he wasn’t honest-to-god terrified of her. She’s sweet when she wants to be but he’s also seen her ripping through grown men with mere words because they said something she didn’t like. And she’s fiercely protective of Derek so Stiles decides to steer clear of her.

His next and only option is asking Derek. Well, more like cornering Derek if he ever finds him. Thanks to his magnificent detective skills, Stiles cracks down Derek’s daily routine and figures out that he’s going to be in the library looking for books on his thesis topic today afternoon. And then, he hides behind library shelves and stands in wait for Derek to arrive.

Yeah okay, he gets how creepy and stalker-y that sounds. Whatever, that’s Derek Hale walking through the elevator door and headed towards the shelf Stiles is hiding behind so yeah.

He gives Derek a few minutes to take off his bag and settle down before he walks out from behind the shelf holding a book he has no clue about. His ‘ _completely innocent run-in and certainly not a planned stalking’_ speech is ready but when Derek turns around, Stiles can’t remember what words are.

Derek--he’s wearing glasses.

Derek Hale is wearing thick-rimmed hipstery glasses, and a cozy, maroon jumper. It has thumb holes.

And that puddle on the floor is Stiles.

“Stiles?”

He can hear it but his brain is still processing the glasses and the thicker than usual beard and the stupid thumb holes in the stupid jumper. Stiles just wants to rub his face against that stupidly soft-looking jumper and also preferably against Derek’s beard which looks--

“Stiles!”

“So soft--what? No!”

“What’re you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“I’m writing a thesis on human sexuality, this is the sexuality section of the library.”

“Right, I knew that.”

Derek’s looking at him with raised eyebrows, and oh god Stiles thought Derek could never top his tight shirt/Ray-bans/sexy Camaro look but here he is proving God and Stiles wrong.

On a different note, Stiles has never felt more attracted to anyone in his life and that includes Dale Cooper. Who maybe looks a bit like Derek if Stiles squints really hard and only looks at his chest and the lowers regions -- and he’s thinking about porn while Derek is standing mere inches away from him waiting for an answer, while wearing glasses.

“I’m doing research also.”

“Oh, really? On what topic?”

He looks down at the book in his hand and internally cringes before mumbling, “In-depth analysis of vaginal infections: Candida through Trichomoniasis -- it’s a work in progress.”

Derek look unimpressed and ready to turn around and walk away from Stiles. So, of course he reaches out and puts a hand on Derek’s forearm to stop him. What he gets in response is Derek freezing in place before turning around and eyeing Stiles’ hand on his arm and then a glare directed at Stiles himself.

He pulls his hand back like he’s been burned, it’s a cold reminder of that night Derek had pulled back from him like he’d been about to make the biggest mistake of his life in kissing Stiles.

“Just listen once, okay?”

All he gets is a hurried nod from Derek, as he crosses his arms across his stupidly wide chest and the stupid jumper sleeves stretch across his stupid biceps. Stiles just looks away from all that stupid.

“Derek, just--you’re my friend, okay? I’ve known you a lot longer than the three months ago we met but in these three months, you’ve become my friend. You are important to me, I’ve shared things with you I have never said out loud before. And now I know something’s bothering you and as much as I don’t want to push you to tell me, I’d still like to help.”

“Nothing’s bothering me.”

“You can’t lie as well as you think you can.”

“Stiles--”

“If this is about what happened in the lab that day, I told you it’s forgotten. But you’re avoiding me, for some reason and I’d like to know what that reason is.”

“I’m not avoiding you, why do you--”

“Then, why haven’t I seen you in days? You never come to lunch now and I saw you in the hallway yesterday and I called your name, you saw me and walked away.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I didn’t see you anywhere yesterday.”

“Yeah okay, you keep believing that, big guy. Look, if this about the _thing_ , then you need to know that I’d never put you in an uncomfortable position. You know why?”

Derek just stares at him in complete silence so Stiles continues, “Because you’re my friend, before everything else. So, whatever might’ve happened between us, if you asked me to drop it, I would and I did. So, will you please tell me what’s bothering you?”

“I’m not avoiding you, Stiles. I--you’re a good friend. You’re among the few people I voluntarily talk to so yeah.”

They stand there for a quiet moment, Stiles is not sure where they stand in the metaphorical sense because this is the closest to verbal affection Derek has ever come in regards to him. At the same time, they both know that Derek is lying about avoiding Stiles, and this knowledge kind of makes it hard for Stiles to accept Derek’s admission. Just as he’s about to ask him once again, he sees a familiar face behind Derek.

“Stiles?”

“Danny, hey!”

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you, how’re you?”

“Oh I’m good, same old same old. You visiting doucheface?”

Danny’s face does that disappointed parent thing he had nailed sometime in junior year, but Stiles doesn’t concede even as guilt blooms in his chest at Danny’s disapproving look. For some reason, everyone wants Danny to be proud of them so this look hits a little close to home.

“Yes, I’m visiting Jackson, thought I’d catch up with you guys as well.”

“Is that why Lydia sent me that vaguely threatening text this morning about drinks tonight and wearing grown-up clothes?”

He blushes slightly when he realises the implication of his own words, Danny seems to have caught on as well if the shy dimple that appears in his right cheek is any indication. It’s no secret that Lydia is really invested in setting up Stiles with Danny, it’s one of those things everyone in BHHS knew.

A sort of awkward silence settles around them before Danny turns slightly to his right and motions toward Derek - who Stiles had entirely forgotten was also here.

“Who's that?”

“Oh, that's my cousin... Miguel...”

He has no clue why he said that, no idea whatsoever. It’s just something that slipped out of his mouth without his consent and now Derek is glaring at him with the heat of a thousand suns while Danny looks on skeptically. Maybe he didn’t want Danny to know that this is Derek Hale, Beacon Hills’ beloved. Maybe not.

“Nice to meet you, Miguel.”

Stiles is dying on the inside, he is absolutely dying because Derek glares at Danny before taking his hand and muttering a low, “and you.”

“So anyway, I’ve got to head back, I was just here to take a look at the impressive sexuality section Berkeley has in the library. Figures, I’d see you here, Stilinski!”

He’s left flabbergasted as Danny turns to Derek and stabs him in the back - metaphorically, “Stiles once wrote a ten-page essay on the history of male circumcision. For an Economics class.”

Derek’s face does a weird half a quirk of lips followed by a clenched jaw thing which doesn’t faze Danny because hardly anything fazes Danny but it makes something ugly swell in Stiles. He has no control over his next words, whatsoever.

“What was that face?”

Derek seems surprised by his question, like he wasn’t expecting anyone to notice his weird expression just now.

Danny awkwardly shuffles his feet on the ground before bidding a quick goodbye and disappearing down the hall. Derek refuses to look at Stiles, probably hoping that he won’t have to answer if he doesn’t meet Stiles’ eyes.

“Why did you make that face just now?”

“What face?”  
“You know what face, the one you just made when Danny told you about the essay.”

“I was just taken aback a bit, that’s all.”

“By what?”

“Never heard the circumcision story before.”

“There’s a lot of stories about me you haven’t heard yet. Probably would’ve though, if you were around and not avoiding me like the Plague.”

“Stiles, I’m not--”

“Forget it, Derek. Do what you want, I won’t bother with you again.”

And with that, he walks away with the stupid book about vaginal infections still clutched in his hand. He wants Derek to stop him, to call his name and to walk after him but of course, Derek doesn’t.

***

He walks out of the library cursing bitterly and creatively. He could walk to his room and distract himself with CoD but he finds his feet walking in circles in front of the building, curses tumbling from his lips in frustration.

“Fucking asshole, motherfucker! What a dick, fucking useless douchenugget! ‘Ooh look at me with my mighty eyebrows and my stupid fucking glasses!’ Dick McAssface--”

“Stiles?

He turns around to find Scott’s RA standing there trying to stifle a laugh behind his hand and that’s the exact moment that Stiles remembers him almost dry-humping Mr. Argent a few days ago so the noise he makes is somewhere in between a wounded animal and nervous laughter.

“Hey, Scott’s RA.”

“You can call me Jordan, Stiles, we’ve been over this.”

He doesn’t really know how to vocalise ‘I saw you making out with Allison’s dad and my brain almost short-circuited with the level of hot so I’m kind of wary of calling you by your first name’ so he just nods his head.

“You okay? Just heard your litany of curses and thought I’d ask.”

Stiles flushes even more and if he doesn’t stop thinking of embarrassing things he might just die with too much blood rushing to his face and too little to his heart.

“I’m fine, just--bit of an argument with a friend.”

“Ah, friend of the platonic kind or romantic kind?”

He really doesn’t need to be reminded of his little romantic swerve with Derek but Jordan’s words make him feel a phantom touch on his cheek anyway and apparently that’s answer enough for the older man.

“Alright, let’s go, I’ll show you the best coffee place around here.”

“It’s okay, I’ll just go home and--”

“Stiles, it’s fine. I kinda need company too, so if you don’t mind?”

He almost says _as long as you don’t talk about any details of your sexytimes with Mr. Argent_ but stops himself from going there.

“Sure, lead the way.”

And that’s how he ends up sitting across from Jordan Parrish in a small hole-in-the-wall cafe called The Phoenix. The coffee is the best he has ever tasted, hand to God.

“So, your friend troubles. Feel free to share if you want to but I’m not pushing.”

“Right.”

They sit in silence for a moment as Stiles contemplates whether getting a second opinion on his situation with Derek is a good idea because Lydia will literally snip his balls if she finds out that Stiles has talked to someone about things she doesn’t know. He gulps nervously at the mental image of facing her wrath.

“Hey, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. We can just talk about something else.”

“No, it’s not that, it’s just -- I’m kind of new at this.”

Jordan just nods encouragingly at him without interrupting and Stiles finds himself liking the quiet attention.

“Right, okay, so I’m pretty sure I’m sort of almost infatuated with someone who I recently kissed except he wants to forget about it even though he was into it at the moment. I, being a nice guy, did forget about it and never brought it up again but this guy, he--he’s a good friend of mine and now he’s avoiding me and I’m 87% sure it’s because of the stupid kiss.”

Jordan nods his head a couple times and almost says something before closing his mouth. Stiles fiddles with the handle of his coffee mug as Jordan makes up his mind about what to say. Finally, he looks up and sighs.

“Okay, from my experience, it could be a sexuality crisis for him. Do you know for sure that he’s comfortable being with a guy?”

It rips through him, Jordan’s question rips through Stiles because he has no clue if Derek has ever been with a guy before or if Stiles is the first, if that’s why he keeps pushing Stiles away because he can’t cope with the fact that he’s not straight.

“Stiles?”

“I don’t--I’m not sure.”

“It could be that, not everyone is comfortable in their skin, y’know.”

Oh, he knows. He knows more than most because it took him years to get comfortable in his own skin and he still struggles most days.

“Hey, Stiles?”

He snaps out of his inner monologue and looks up to find Jordan looking at him with concern in his eyes.

“Can I offer a piece of advice?”

Usually, Stiles would laugh at anyone trying to give him advice but he’s so lost right now and Jordan is asking with such earnest eyes that Stiles finds himself nodding.

“I’ve been where you are now, ‘sort of almost infatuated with a straight guy’, it didn’t end well. I’m not saying that’s how it’ll be with you but it left me questioning everything. And it wasn’t even my first relationship so I would try to talk to this guy. Don’t push him, of course, but I think it’s unfair to you that he’s pulling you along on his way to a crisis.”

He can hear his dad’s voice in his head, _That’s sound advice, kid. Listen to it._

“Thanks, Jordan.”

“For?”

“For asking me why I was cursing up a storm in front of the library.”

He laughs with his head thrown back, eyes snapped shut and teeth peeking out of his lips. Stiles finds himself remembering that day again, Mr. Argent almost picking Jordan up with how he pushed the guy against the car, nope no bad thoughts.

“You’re most welcome. And if you ever need someone to listen, come find me.”

“I will.”

***

He’s in way over his head with the revision of his thesis when someone knocks on the front door. This is Erica and Boyd’s place, she insisted that Derek stay here when he’s on a serious deadline because of that time in second year when he’d holed up in his loft and hadn’t let anyone come in for three days. Unfortunately, he’d also forgotten to sleep and eat for three days and Erica had made Boyd come up through the fire escape only to see Derek through the window, passed out on the floor.

So yeah, she basically packed a bag for him and thrust her apartment key in his hand when he told her he was doing a final revision before submitting his essay this week.

And right now he’s rushing around with just a towel wrapped around his waist after that shower he took ten minutes ago but he has no time to change his clothes or even sit down. He has to finish revising it today.

He’s tempted to ignore the knocking and keep going but whoever it is keeps banging on till Derek concedes and goes to open it.

Stiles is standing on the other side of it.

“You’re in a towel.”

“What do you want, Stiles? How did you find me here?”

“I asked Erica.”

“And she told you?”

He nods his head and Derek can feel his blood pressure rising because what’s point of being holed up in Erica’s apartment if she’s going to announce to everyone where Derek is.

“I need to talk to you.”

Stiles doesn’t wait for him answer, instead just pushes past Derek and into the apartment. Derek takes a deep breath and closes the door behind him, praying for patience he will most likely need.

“I’m on a tight deadline, Stiles, I really need to finish this--”

“Do you keep pushing me away because I’m me? Or do you keep pushing me because I’m a guy?”

Derek shifts uncomfortably, his arms crossed over his chest tighten and Stiles can literally see the tendons in Derek’s forearms tightening.

“I thought we agreed to never bring this up again.”

“That was before you decided to be a giant dick and avoid me. So, answer the question.”

“Don’t you think it’d be a bit hypocritical of me to be writing my thesis on history of homosexuality and be homophobic?”

“I don’t know, Reaction Formation is a thing that exists.”

He can’t help but snort at Stiles’ childish suggestion. As much as he doesn’t have time for this. he also can’t keep himself from internally basking in the absurdity of Stiles’ suggestion.

“Bit harsh. You think I’m writing a thesis on homosexuality because I’m having some sort of sexual crisis? That’s not even the definition of Reaction Formation, by the way.”

“What is it, then? Repression? Denial?”

“It’s nothing is what it is, Stiles. I’m not having a sexuality crisis, despite what you think.”

“Why’d you push me away, then?”

“That’s crossing the line, don’t you think?”

“Oh, you found the line, did you? Care to share it with me?”

“Stiles, just--”

“Not done yet.”

Derek snaps his mouth shut at Stiles’ demanding tone. His amber eyes are absolutely unforgiving and Derek can’t bring himself to interrupt.

“No, I’d like to know where the line is. ‘Cuz you didn’t know where it was when you kissed me that day. And you definitely didn’t know it when you were almost grinding against my thigh. Now--”

“Stiles..”

“What?”

He can’t do this, not again. He can’t have Stiles here and asking all these questions when he’s worked so hard on maintaining his distance. Because being near Stiles, watching him do stupid things like getting high on cough syrup and singing stupid songs. Or standing on top of a table and proposing to Erica like an idiot from a period drama. Or just being himself really, Derek can’t do it.

“Why are you here?”

“Fine, I’ll tell you why I’m here. You remember that spastic asshole you met in bio three months ago? I’m still that spastic asshole but not to you because you’re my friend now. There aren’t a lot of people I think of that way but you’re one of them now, asshole. And I’m not giving up till I know why the fuck you decided to avoid me.”

“Stiles, I’m not--”

“Don’t insult me by saying you’re not.”

Silence settles between them as Derek stares at the floor with a clenched jaw. Stiles is planning on staying silent till Derek admits that he’s been avoiding Stiles, but something breaks in him as he watches Derek glaring at the ground.

“Did you know that they call you the Estranged Prince of Beacon Hills back home?”

Derek’s head snaps up in surprise, he just stares at Stiles in silence.

“We all grew up hearing the tales of Derek Hale, everyone in that town is smitten with you. Even old man Jenkins talks about you and Laura pranking him, with some form of misplaced fondness. And you know how he hates everyone’s guts.”

Derek is staring at Stiles because he doesn’t know what else to do. He hasn’t set foot in Beacon Hills in years, he misses the place and he misses the familiar faces but he hasn’t really felt the sting of nostalgia till now. And Stiles is staring right back at him, his brown eyes boring defiantly into Derek’s own.

“Mrs. Argent still reminisces about how you loved her red velvet cupcakes even though Laura maintains that you only ate them to tease her since she couldn’t eat them cuz of her allergies. And Coach Finstock swears up and down that you were the star of the lacrosse team when everyone knows you played basketball in high-school. Don’t even get me started on that dick, Harris. He actually keeps one of your term papers in his desk as the epitome of perfection.”

He can feel little pinpricks of something on his skin with every word out of Stiles’ mouth. These people Stiles is talking about are people from his past, people who saw him growing up in front of their eyes. Honestly, he’s finding it a little hard to keep his breathing steady.

“Wondering why I’m telling you all this? Because that town, those people, they’re still waiting for you to come back. You’re this legend every kid in Beacon Hills hears about and so did I. So, I knew you way before I saw you in bio class. I knew more about you than you know about me right now. I’ve been in your house more times than I can count, your mom used to make me lasagne every week because she knows it’s my favourite. Peter, the dog, absolutely refuses to be put on a leash except when I do it.

“So yeah, I know you, Derek Hale. Whether you want me to or not, and I’m not here to force you or anything. I’m just trying to show you how much you mean to me. All these things people think they know about you, these things are nothing in comparison to how much you’ve shared with me.

Your absolute hatred for anything mint, your undying love for Jane Austen and especially Pride and Prejudice. That face you make when some douchebag couple decides to suck face in public. That blissed out look on your face when you’re reading and are absolutely lost to the world. The level of distrust you have in the education system and yet all those late nights you spend reading through random research papers.”

He can’t pull his eyes away from Stiles, can’t even begin to understand how Stiles knows so much about him. Things he strives so hard to hide from everyone.

“I don’t know what’s making you push me away, Derek. But I’m here to show you that you mean much more to me than some stupid kiss. I can’t lose you because we’re not looking for the same thing, or because of some misguided kiss. I know I crossed a line just now, but it’s only because I’m freaking the fuck out over here. If you know me at all, then you know I don’t do things half-assed. Especially friendship.”

He mouth feels like he’s swallowed cotton, he has to gulp forcefully before he looks up at Stiles. The sadness that’s practically overflowing from Stiles’ eyes jabs something sharp in Derek’s chest.

“I’m sorry.”

Stiles just shrugs at him.

And just like that, he has forgiven Derek for being the asshole he’s been in the past week.

“I was stressed about my thesis and I wasn’t thinking clearly. But I should’ve reached out to you.”

“Hey, it’s okay. Just--don’t do it again, yeah? I kinda have a thing with abandonment, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

A self-deprecating smile plays on Stiles’ lips and all Derek wants is to pull the boy into him and hold on tight till any doubts he has about himself vanish away.

“I was a dick.”

“If you’re expecting me to refute that statement, forget it.”

And just like that they’re both laughing, any insecurity and tension forgotten. Derek lets his eyes linger for a second longer, he hasn’t seen Stiles in days and he’s been feeling the sting of withdrawal constantly in his chest.

“So, you’re doing the final edit on your thesis?”

He nods and moves to pick up his tee-shirt from the back of the couch and pulls it on.

“Anything I can do to help?”

If anything, Derek is shocked by his question. Erica and Boyd couldn’t wait to get away from him and his ‘literal dark clouds of doom and gloom’ and here Stiles is asking if he can help.

“Uh…”

“I can read over some stuff, if you want. I used to proof-read papers for extra cash back in high-school.”

Derek can just raise his brows in surprise, of course Stiles has experience proofreading papers. There hasn’t been a single day in the last three months when Stiles hasn’t surprised Derek.

“Actually, I could use a fresh pair of eyes.”

“Alrighty, just point me to the section.”

They get to work in comfortable silence, punctuated by noises Stiles makes sometimes after reading something he finds interesting. Derek keeps asking him what it is and they keep getting themselves into long-winded conversations about unexpected things Derek found in his research.

During one of these conversations, Stiles is wildly gesticulating and rambling with no breaths in between and Derek finds himself mesmerized by his wide eyes and his mouth wrapping around fast words,

“--wasn’t as much of a dick as people think he is. I mean, he did make huge claims without any data backing him up but he advocated homosexuality at a time when people were being persecuted for it. Don’t get me wrong, he’s far from being the ‘father’ of anything but Freud wasn’t as big a dick as we make him out to be.”

“Well, I’m sure he’s smiling in his grave, grateful that Stiles Stilinski thinks he’s less of a dick than most people do.”

Stiles lazily swats his hand out and hits Derek’s arm, his lips stretching into a slow smile. Derek can actually feel the tension in his shoulders seeping out at the sight in front of him.

“At least he was less of a dick than you.”

“Really? The guy who lived solely on crack for two years and came up with the theory that everyone is obsessed with sex at all times, even babies?”

“Well technically, he didn’t say obsessed--”

He just groans and Stiles bursts out laughing at his childish antics. For some reason, lyrics from some song Stiles always has playing on his phone float through Derek’s head

 **_People fall in love in mysterious ways, maybe it’s all part of the plan_ **  
**_I’ll just keep making the same mistakes, hoping that you’ll understand_ **

Stiles shaking his shoulder breaks him from the trance, and he just shakes his head and goes back to reading through the last section of his thesis. Stiles doesn’t say anything and goes back to his reading too.

It’s light outside by the time they finish reading through the whole paper. Bright sunlight pouring through the parted curtains lights up Stiles’ face as he yawns lazily. Derek can only sit there and wonder if this is what Shakespeare wrote sonnets about.  
***  
Derek feels like he can finally breathe.

His thesis has been submitted for review and he honestly can’t remember what he used to do in his free time before the thesis took over his life. His phone pings with a text and he smiles when he sees who it is.

_**1:23 PM from Stiles:** Is the deed done?_

He shakes his head at the stupidity of it, Stiles has been talking about the thesis like it’s mission impossible and Derek can only roll his eyes and let him get on with it.

_**1:25 PM from Derek:** It’s a thesis, Stiles. I’m not planting a bomb in the White House._

_**1:25 PM from Stiles:**_ _Congratulations, you have once again spoilt the fun, sourwolf!_

_**1:26 PM from Derek:** Stop calling me that._

_**1:26 PM from Stiles:**_ _The day pigs fly, SOURWOLF!!_

He gives up trying to convince Stiles, it’s no use anyway. Just as he’s about to chuck his phone away and change into comfy clothes, his phone rings in his hand with Laura’s face blinking up at him.

With a deep breath and a quick prayer for some much needed patience, he picks up. The voice on the other end is way too chipper for it to be a casual call.

“Hi, sourwolf!”

Yup, there’s that spike in blood-pressure that usually comes a few minutes into talking to Laura. She seems to have broken her own record, making Derek grit his teeth mere seconds into the call.

“He didn’t.”

A shrill laugh almost pierces his eardrum even after he pushes the phone away from his ear.

“He did.”

She sounds too happy with her achievement and all Derek can think of is cornering Stiles later and demanding to know why he decided to share the stupid nickname with this sister except the thought of cornering Stiles leads to things he doesn’t need to think about with Laura on the phone--

“You still there? Oh come on, Der, it’s just a name.”

“I don’t like it.”

“I’m aware.”

“This why you called me?”

“Actually, I wanted to know why you didn’t tell me you knew Stiles Stilinski.”

“What?”

“Cora told me he was the freshman you were ready to get assassinated, how come you never mentioned it during our millions of chats.”

“I don’t--”

“But worry not, you’ll get a chance to make it up to me, baby bro.”

It finally makes sense, why she’s bringing this up now.

“Cora told you after she went back months ago, didn’t she? And you’ve been waiting all this time to bring this up as blackmail material, haven’t you?”

“You know me so well, this is why you’re my favourite brother.”

“I’m your only brother.”

“And still my favourite.”

“What do you want?”

“Now, is this any way to talk to your favourite sister who knows things Stiles has told her in confidence?”

He can’t help but swallow the huge lump in his throat, this is the tone she uses when she knows something that will probably be a pain in Derek’s ass.

“You talked to Stiles?”

“Oh, almost everyday. He’s my platonic soul-mate, didn’t you know? And he’s told me things, interesting things--”

Before he knows what he’s doing, he finds himself growling deep in his chest,

“Laura--”

“We need to talk and lucky for you, I’ll be in town next week.”

This is the appropriate moment for his life to flash before his eyes. Laura in Berkeley has never ended well for Derek.

“Why?”

“I think you know why, Der.”

It’s a visit he’s been dreading. Now that he’s graduating, a visit from either Laura or his mom is hardly surprising. To be honest, he was expecting one of them here weeks ago.

“Yeah.”

She wishes him goodbye, with a soft reminder to “chill, baby bro.”

He mentions Laura coming to visit later on, and all Stiles does is look dramatically into the distance and whispers,

“Derek’s chill, when will you come back from the war?”

Derek doesn’t even understand what’s going on but everyone else at the table is laughing their asses off because whatever Stiles has said is funny apparently. And isn’t this the story of Derek’s life?

“Dude, you know that song? Can you, like explain what it’s about because I haven’t a single clue.”

This is another one of those times when Derek feels like Stiles is speaking a whole other language. Which of course, is nothing compared to when Stiles actually speaks another language.

***

Derek’s leafing through the book Stiles was reading before his phone rang with Cora’s call. Everyone else is busy talking about some student union party but Derek doesn’t dare lift his eyes from the book, lest Erica catch his eye and start convincing him to come to another stupid party.

Stiles is pointing to his phone and rolling his eyes, his antics make Derek smile but he looks away and down to the book. It’s still a bit weird when Stiles gets a text or a call from Cora in front of Derek, he doesn’t feel as bad as he used to when he didn’t know how close Stiles and she have been over the years.

Pushing those thoughts to the back of his mind, he tracks his eyes over the words on the page only for them to stutter to a stop and snap up when Stiles starts talking,

“Tá sé ina gowl. Ná bíodh imní ort mar gheall air!” _[He’s an asshole. Don’t worry about it!]_

He has absolutely lost his train of thought as strange words tumble out of Stiles’ mouth with unmistakable smoothness. It’s not an exaggeration to say that Derek can actually feel the blood rushing through his veins with every word that Stiles utters. And it’s rushing in a southward direction.

“Tú go maith ar sé.” _[You’re good at it.]_

The book lays forgotten on the table in front of him, all his eyes see is Stiles opposite him with a frown on his face. Derek can feel eyes on him, probably Erica getting another dangerous idea but Derek can’t seem to look away.

“Sé cad é?” _[He what?]_

Stiles looks frustrated and like he wants to punch someone. Not for the first time, Derek wishes he could understand what Stiles was saying. And no, it’s not jealousy he feels burning through his chest because Cora can understand perfectly fine what’s being said.

“Is maith an scáthán súil charad.” _[Literal translation: A friend’s eye is a good mirror. Meaning: A friend will tell you how it is.]_

Finally, fucking finally, Stiles looks up and meets Derek’s eyes. And they get stuck, looking at each other as Cora keeps talking and Derek can hear her repeating Stiles’ name over and over but for a second, Stiles doesn’t look away or respond.

“Derek!”

And just like that, it’s over. Erica is demanding his attention and Stiles snatches his eyes and hurriedly gets up from the table to walk away with Cora still on the line,

“Tá brón orainn, soz, soz!” _[I’m sorry, sorry, sorry!]_

***

Stiles can still feel Derek staring at him while he struggled to keep his conversation with Cora going without her demanding to know what was so important that Stiles couldn’t pay attention to her complaining about Mr. Harris.

They don’t talk about it.

Just like they don’t talk about all the other times when Stiles catches Derek looking at him like he’s never seen Stiles before. Or the times when he himself can’t take his eyes off Derek even when he knows that Derek can feel him looking. Or the times when Derek touches him when passing by, just a gentle hand on his shoulder and they both shiver at the contact.

No sireee, nothing to talk about here.

Just as he’s about to turn off his phone and, his dad calls.

“Did you forget you have an old man?”

"Hey, dad.”

“What, no sarcastic jab? You okay, kid?”

“I’m good, just a little tired. What about you? Are you eating okay? I better not hear you’ve been eating red meat or I will--”

“That’s more like it. Remind me to never ask you again.”

“Seriously dad, are you eating well?”

“Yes, dear.”

“No need to be an ass about it.”

“Language!”

“I’m 19, dad.”

“And?”

“Fair point.”

“You sound tired, kid. Everything alright?”

“Yeah dad, it’s just two weeks before finals.”

“Right. Well, you only have three more weeks before you’re coming home, right?”

“Yeah, I can’t wait.”

“Neither can I, kid. Listen, you go to bed, we’ll talk later, yeah?”

“Yeah. Bye, dad.”

“Take care, son.”

***

He nuzzles into the pillow and sighs as the soft fabric rubs across his skin and it feels like heaven. There are maybe two things Stiles likes better than sleep, maybe. And right now, he’s in heaven as the sheets pool around his legs and he feels a long line of heat along his back.

Wait.

Before he can turn around, a heavy arm lands on his side and a body plasters itself to Stiles’ back. He can feel a firm chest along his back, legs tangling in his own as the arm across his chest pulls him back to rest even closer to the warm body.

A protest dies on his lips when he feels a hard cock against his ass, nudging but not pushing just yet. Slightly lifting his head, he looks over his shoulder to find Derek’s face hidden behind Stiles’ neck as he pants heavily and starts grinding his hardness against Stiles in a punishingly slow pace.

“Aaaah!”

He bites down on his lip to stop anymore sounds escaping his mouth as Derek’s hand wanders up Stiles’ chest and his hips align even better with Stiles’. God, is this what it feels like to die and go to heaven?

Derek’s fingers brush over Stiles’ nipple and this time he can’t bite down on the gasp. It thunders in the dead silence of the room. His own ass grinds back against the cock, he can’t help but push back.

“Stiles!”

He pushes back against Derek again and the action causes Derek’s cock to slide between Stiles’ thighs, he’s not proud of the filthy moan he lets out as his thighs shake with the effort of holding still.

Derek pulls back and thrusts his hips, this time his cock nudges against his balls and the shiver that runs down his spine at the sensation has him snapping his eyes shut, “Fuck, Derek!”

He’s so close, Derek’s hand wraps around Stiles’ throat and he’s not choking but he can feel the pressure, can feel the sting every time he breathes in and goddamnit, what is Derek doing to him?

All Stiles can do is pant and moan as Derek’s hips start moving faster and his thrusts start coming at a maddening pace as his dick slides between Stiles’ thighs, his wet thighs.

Stiles is so close--so close--Derek leans in and Stiles can feel his hot breath against his ear as he tightens his grip on Stiles’ throat and whispers,

“Come for me.”

And that’s all Stiles needs, the very next second he’s snapping his eyes shut against the searing heat in his gut as he comes untouched. A second later, he can feel Derek’s hips stuttering and then wet hotness between his thighs, leaking down his legs. If he hadn’t just come, he’d be coming again just from the sensation of Derek’s hot come landing on his ass and his thighs.

Harsh breaths punch through him as he comes down from his high, the last thought he has before slipping back into sleep is that he’ll have bruises on his neck from where Derek’s fingers were wrapped around it.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- My Irish is a little bit rusty and I didn't get to this level of conversation yet so I've relied heavily on translations and if anything is wrong, forgive me for messing up such a beautiful language. 
> 
> \- I mean Dale Cooper, the pornstar and not the character from Twin Peaks.
> 
> -yolktree, I promised you Derek in sweatpants and I delivered. Hope you liked it.


	15. You and I go hard at each other, like we're going to war

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a scene in this chapter that I've been dying to share with you guys for ages. You'll know which one I'm taking about. Also, don't hate me. 
> 
> PS-The loft scene is inspired by a scene in a show I recently discovered. Here's where you can watch the original scene, skip to 5:45: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IsFj7zsSf_Y

He wakes up to find his Batman sheet sticking to his stomach and upon a closer inspection, he finds something dried and flaky basically gluing the sheet to his front. In a flash, he remembers last night -- Derek hard against him and thrusting between his thighs, Stiles’ dick starts to take interest in the activities -- and no.

No.

He can feel his ears burning as reality crashes through the morning haze: he had a wet dream about Derek.

Fuck.

Wrinkling his nose in disgust, he peels the sheet off and throws it off the bed. Shame and embarrassment curl low in his gut, making his eyes sting. God, he is so pathetic.

Derek is his friend, maybe his best friend. He’d asked Stiles to forget about what happened between them and Stiles had promised him. And now here he is, with dried come on his stomach. Having wet dreams about his best friend, like a fucking teenager.

Pushing the thoughts away, he picks up his towel and rushes toward the shower. He doesn’t need to dwell on his pathetic actions, doesn’t need to be in the bed he had probably dry humped last night while picturing Derek with him.

Under the icy cold spray of the water, he lets himself go for a second, lets silent sobs wreck his body for a moment, it’s alright. His skin prickles under the cold water but he deserves it. Of course, he does, after what he has just done.

He stands there in the shower with his eyes closed and his teeth chattering but he doesn’t get out. It’s painful for a bit but then he’s numb. Can’t feel anything on his frozen skin.

He deserves it for the violation he has so unknowingly committed against Derek's person.

***

Stiles is acting a bit weird.

Derek has no idea what it is that’s causing Stiles to be so distant, and he doesn’t know how to bring it up either. It’s the last week of classes and finals are almost on them so maybe, it’s the stress.

He doesn’t know if he believes that flimsy excuse himself. All he knows is that Stiles hasn’t looked him in the eye. And quite frankly, it hurts because Stiles doesn’t shy away from anyone else.

He’s his usual loud self when they’re getting lunch and he jokes around with Derek sometimes but he never meets Derek’s eyes. After the fourth day, Derek makes up his mind to ask Stiles.

Just as everyone is packing up after lunch to go to their classes, Derek reaches out to touch Stiles’ shoulder to stop him. The second Derek’s hand touches him, Stiles flinches away.

Derek probably does a shitty job of disguising his shock and discomfort when Stiles pulls away and hunches his shoulders like he’s trying to disappear into himself. Maybe, that’s why when Stiles looks up at him, he offers a weak smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. Derek puts aside his shock and clears his throat,

“Stiles, you okay?”

“Yeah, I just--you startled me, is all.”

He wants to say that this is not the first time someone has startled Stiles but it is the first time he has flinched away from someone. But he doesn’t.

“Are you sure?”

“Yep!”

“You’re not coming down with the flu again, right?”

“No, Derek. I’m absolutely fine, you worry-wort sourwolf!”

Then, he flashes Derek a real smile and honest-to-god something eases in his chest. The cold reminder of how much he’s gone on Stiles almost knocks Derek off his feet but he manages a smile too.

Two days later, Stiles isn’t shying away from his eyes anymore but Derek still can’t help but feel like something is really, really wrong.

***

After torturing himself for five full days, Stiles decides to once again just let go.

It’s easier said than done, especially when he can feel Derek’s eyes on him every moment they’re within ten feet of each other. On the one hand, he wants to bask in the attention, his skin heating up every time he catches Derek looking.

On the other, every look is a shameful reminder of what he had done. The way he had betrayed his friend’s trust in the most disgusting way. Then, the same gaze helps him face the fact that Derek is worried about him because he’s Stiles’ friend and he’s always going to be around so Stiles needs to go ahead and just forget. And forgive himself.

It’s during one of his torturous inner-monologues that he realizes that he needs to move on. Needs to let go of the hope he’s been holding on to in his heart.

_And isn’t fate a cruel mistress?_

She makes sure that he literally falls and picks himself up, before moving on and leaving Derek behind.

***

“Bellamy!”

Stiles turns around at the loud voice behind him and ends up on the floor with someone on top of him.

“Oof!”

He can feel the ground underneath him, digging into his bones and hurting like hell. The person on top of him grunts and rolls off him and Stiles can finally breathe.

“Sorry, man!”

With enough air in his lungs, Stiles opens his eyes to find a guy standing over him with an outstretched hand.

“Oh thanks!”

He stumbles a little as the guy pulls him up, before finding his footing and standing still. The world spins a little around him and the guy looks concerned so Stiles shoots him a quick nod. Finally, relief flashes across the guy’s face, “No worries, and uh--sorry for falling on you.”

“That’s okay, I shouldn’t have stopped mid-walk.”

“Guess we’re even, then!”

“I guess so.”

Stiles knows the conversation is over, there’s nothing else he can say to this stranger without it being awkward but he doesn’t want to walk away just yet.

_You’re late for class, son._

Of course, his dad’s voice in his head has things to say. Well, this is it then, he thinks. _You have beautiful eyes, they look like they’ve seen things no one should see._

He’s about to wave and walk away when the guy extends a hand in his direction again, this time he’s not on the ground so Stiles takes it gently and realises that he is memorising the feel of it.

“Bellamy.”

He can’t look away from those eyes, it’s probably weirding the guy out by now but Stiles can’t bring himself to look away.

“Stiles.”

Okay, well now they’re both standing in the middle of the hallway, basically holding hands.

“Bellamy!”

That’s enough of a shock to spring them apart. Bellamy looks alarmed, like he has just woken up from a trance and Stiles can feel his own cheeks heating up so it’s safe to say that this was a mutual moment of awe and whatever the hell else it was that Stiles felt.

“There you are! Can you please not run away from me while I’m talking?”

Bellamy rolls his eyes - he actually does as good a job as Cora, Stiles is impressed - and looks at Stiles like he’s done with everything.

Stiles thinks it’s nice that someone is done with everything but not him, it’s nice to see that look of utter-doneness directed at someone other than him, for once. And the way that Bellamy looks at him, like he’s known Stiles enough to share this with him - share his annoyance as if Stiles has seen him roll his eyes a thousand times before, it makes Stiles wonder just how long has he known the guy. He feels privy to Bellamy’s secrets.

Before he even knows what’s happening, he’s laughing at Bellamy’s antics. The guy in question, looks surprised at Stiles’ outburst but there’s also a tiny smile lingering at the corner of his lips.

“Bellamy, are you even listening to me?”

"Yeah, I--what?"

"I said, will you be coming to the party this weekend?"

Stiles remembers Jordan talking about a party on campus this weekend. He didn't have any concrete plans of going but for some reason, now he wants to. If this guy is there.

"I don't know, O. It's not really my--"

"Uh, is it the one the Student Association is throwing?"

The guy and the girl both turn around to stare at him as if they'd forgotten he was even there, which yeah he's pretty much a stranger. What is he doing here, again?

"And you are?"

"Oh, this is Stiles."

"Stiles?"

The girl is looking at him with raised eyebrows before turning back to Bellamy with curiosity clear on her face.

"Yeah, and Stiles, this is my sister, Octavia."

Now that Bellamy's said it, he can see the similarities between them. The same dark hair, freckled skin and eyes that look like they've seen too much. Stiles really wants to know the story behind that but he has to remind himself that he doesn't know these people.

"Hi, nice to meet you."

She finally offers him a smile and it honest to god feels like the clouds have separated to let the sun shine through. God, they're both so beautiful, "And you."

"You're right, it is the Student Association party. Are you going?"

Stiles finds himself nodding his head even though he had no plans to go whatsoever. Octavia seems very happy by his answer and the very next second, she turns to her brother and exclaims, "Now will you go?"

Stiles finds himself blushing at her unsaid words: _since he's going..._

Bellamy seems to be going through a similar thought-process, his face is definitely redder when he turns to his sister and snaps, "Octavia!"

"What? Aren't you two--"

"Stop."

And now Stiles is absolutely losing it, he can feel sweat trickling down his neck and it is April. God, since when has his life become this: a hot guy's sister thinks Stiles and he are somehow together and said hot guy is blushing like a fair maiden.

"Oh, sorry, I thought--"

"Don't you have class, O?"

"Oh fuck! I completely forgot, shit! I'm gonna run, see you later, Bell. And nice to meet you, Stiles."

He can just stand there and nod as realisation that he too has class sinks in. _Told you, Son._ Damnit, can his dad just chill for a second?

"Sorry about that, she uh--she's a wild one."

Stiles just stands there and scratches his neck awkwardly because what else can he do? Bellamy looks like a greek god and he is voluntarily talking to Stiles. Maybe his 19 years' streak of virginity will finally end. Here's to hoping.

"Yeah."

"So, that party. Are you really going?"

And there's that earnest look again, Stiles thinks Bellamy can get anyone to do what he wants just by looking at them.

"Yeah. Are you?"

Bellamy doesn't answer right away, he takes two steps closer to Stiles and just looks at him for a long moment. Then, as if a trance has been broken, he tears his eyes away and says yes.

"Well, I'll see you there, then. I kind of have class too, which started 10 minutes ago."

Bellamy tries to stifle his laugh but it gets out, and Stiles just wants to forget about class and stay here with him all day. He hasn't felt like this about someone in some time. And the last person who made him feel like this is no longer an option, so Stiles lets himself get carried away.

"Alright, see you then."

Stiles waves at Bellamy and starts to walk backward, the guy stands rooted on the spot till Stiles gets to the Science building. Then, Bellamy walks away.

Stiles is fifteen minutes late to class with a very surprised Scott saving him a seat. That's the day Derek starts behaving differently.

***

“Where have you been, dude?”

Derek has never seen Stiles be late for class after that first time Scott and he had stumbled in. Scott can be late sometimes, but Stiles is always here just seconds before the prof. starts speaking. Not today, though.

“I ran into someone.”

He’s trying to pay attention to the slide the prof. is pointing to and explaining but his curiosity gets the better of him. Stiles hardly ever gives short answers or vague ones unless it’s something he doesn’t want to say. Apparently, Scott has a similar idea because he pushes where Derek can’t.

“Someone? Who?”

Stiles is shuffling around to open his bag and get his books out, and if Derek didn’t know better he’d say this is Stiles stalling on the answer. He feels a knot twisting in his gut, doesn’t know why.

“Uh--you don’t know him.”

Yup, definitely stalling and being vague. It does occur to Derek that he’s being overly invested in something that doesn’t concern him, it’s between Scott and Stiles, but Laura’s voice in his head helpfully chimes in _’That ship has long sailed, baby bro’_ and he can’t disagree.

“How do you know him, then?”

“I just told you, I ran into him.”

The _‘him’_ makes something uncomfortable swirl in him, seething rage almost rising up his chest as he clenches his fists and struggles to keep himself from turning around.

Derek can picture Scott’s face with clouds of confusion settling in. And for once he’s grateful for Scott’s relentless inquisition when he doesn’t understand something.

He does know how ironic and out-of-character this is for him, if this had happened two months ago, he’d be irritated and ready to snap Scott’s neck for talking too much but right now his ears are perked up waiting for Scott to ask what’s on his own mind.

“But you’re 15 minutes late, Stiles. You’re never late.”

There it is. Now he will have to say it.

“Yeah, I was having a chat.”

“With someone you just met?”

“Why is this so hard to believe, Scott?”

“It’s just--you’re not usually nice to people an--”

“Uh, excuse me?”

Derek wants to laugh at the disbelief in Stiles’ voice and remind him of the time they first met. Stiles is a bit of a dick when he first meets people, and that’s a fact. He pushes aside the fondness he feels for Stiles, it’s too delicate a feeling to be blooming in his chest right next next to the burning discomfort.

“I mean like, if you’d ran into someone you’d probably be pissed at them and pick a fight rather than ‘have a chat’”.

“Why was that in air quotes?”

“What?”

“Why was the ‘have a chat’ in air quotes?”

“It wasn’t.”

Stiles must’ve done his ‘don’t even start with me’ look because the next thing Scott mumbles is, “Who even says ‘having a chat’?”

“People do.”

“Stop changing the subject, Stiles. Who was this guy you ‘had a chat’ with?”

“Don’t you think we should be taking notes? I think we should be taking notes.”

Derek almost makes a surprised sound at that because never in all his time knowing Stiles, has he ever heard the guy talk about studying. Never in this class, at least.

Must be something big for him to use ‘note-taking’ as a distraction.

And if he tries to concentrate on the notes for the rest of the class without Stiles and Scott’s constant chit-chat and fails, he’s sure it’s because he’s got his thesis on his mind.

It has nothing to do with Stiles running into people and having ‘chats’ with them as opposed to trying to bite their heads off like he did with Derek. That is not on his mind, not one bit.

***

Lydia catches on before anyone, to no one’s surprise exactly. And she catches Stiles at an inconvenient time so he doesn’t even realise what he’s said until after the fact. She is good like that, Lydia.

“So, why aren’t you going to the SA party this weekend?”, she asks as Stiles is furiously typing his thoughts on marriage equality for a short paper for his sexuality class.

“I am going, actually.”, he innocently replies while making a very important point about how the Bible also talks about no sex before marriage but most politicians are not too keen on quoting Jesus on that one.

“You are?”, if he were a little less engrossed in his writing he’d recognise the ‘police investigation’ route this conversation is taking very fast.

“Yeah.”

She sits down on the bed beside him - that should’ve been a sign since she usually makes a face at Stiles’ bed every time she’s here - and starts leafing through her Advanced Calculus textbook. Who even leafes through a calculus textbook for fun? Lydia Martin does.

“Oh? You didn’t tell me, I could’ve asked Danny to come. You know it’s impolite to show up single at--”

“I already have someone.”

And yup. Now, he’s gone and shot himself in the foot with a giant rocket launcher. Goodbye, paper on marriage equality.

“That sounded like you said you had someone.”

That, ladies and gentlemen, is a stunning technique to make an already guilty person feel more guilty. His father uses it from time to time, but Lydia Martin invented this line of questioning.

Now, how is he supposed to answer that? Was that even a question? Damnit.

“Uh--”

“You can say it, Stiles. I mean, I’d have liked to know if you were seeing someone but it’s okay if you don’t consider me importan--”

“I do consider you important, Lydia. I do.”

“Sure.”

“Look, it just happened, he ran--”

“What just happened? Are you telling me that you’ve gone and slept with someon--”

“He ran into me.”

She stops mid-sentence at purses her lips, they have been in this exact position so many times in the past he couldn’t even count. She is silently judging him while he tries to figure out why.

“You ran into someone and now you’re taking them to a party?”

“I’m not taking him, I’ll just meet him there.”

“So let me get this straight, while Scott and I were both trying to convince you to go, you said you had coursework and now you’re going to said party because you ran into someone.”

He sighs and closes his laptop, there’s no way he can complete his paper tonight anyway.

“He’s--I don’t know him, Lydia. At all. But the second I looked at him, I just felt like I knew him, y'know? I mean, poetics aside, he seems like a nice guy who seems to be interested in me, which is a pretty big hurdle to cross, to be honest."

"But Stiles, he's practically a stranger."

"I know but like I said, he didn't feel like a stranger. I--it's crazy but seeing his eyes reminded me of my mom. It's been very long since I remembered what that felt like, and he woke that up in me."

"What about Derek, then? Do you not, y'know--"

"I can't just turn off my feelings, Lydia, it doesn't work like that."

"So, what? This guy is somehow helping you get over Derek? Is that it?"

"I don't know, maybe."

She considers his answer for a second and he's ready to be lectured but in the end she must decide he's right because he never gets lectured about the shitstorm he's about to start. And it is a shitstorm.

***

"I don't want to go to the stupid party, Erica. You all pair up and leave me alone with Stiles, who gets drunk and bores me to death and then I--"

"Stiles isn't coming alone."

He can pinpoint the exact second her words register in his mind. Stiles is not coming alone. He turns away from her, doesn't want her to see anything reflected on his face.

_What did you think was going to happen? He was going to wait for you? Yeah, right!_

His traitorous mind supplies scenarios of Stiles falling for someone else, Stiles bringing them to their lunch table. Derek finds himself clenching his fist around his bag in anger. Something's shifting in him, something's shifting and he doesn't like it. It burns.

"Der?"

"Yeah?"

"I said Stiles is bringing someone."

He still doesn't turn around, he has his suspicions about Erica and exactly how much she knows.

"Anyone we know?"

"Nah, it's some guy he ran into."

Flashbacks of Stiles coming to class late and telling Scott he ran into someone and had a chat with them, come to mind. Derek knew something was up the second Stiles mentioned this someone. He doesn't want to go to the party and see Stiles being intimate with someone else. No, thank you.

"We can take my car."

Fucking brain.

"Awesome! I'll text you the time. Night, Der!"

She rushes out of the loft to join Boyd who's been waiting for her downstairs. He clears the dishes from their dinner and tidies up the kitchen before slipping into bed.

That night he dreams of the Preserve back home and feels a blurry memory of holding someone coming into focus. He can't see who is lying on the forest floor, all he can tell is that there are two people: two kids.

In the morning, he's surprised he didn't dream of Stiles after what Erica told him. Maybe, he's getting over Stiles, he thinks.

***  
Someone knocks on his door while he's on the treadmill, he's not even sure how long they have been knocking. Wiping the sweat off his forehead, he walks toward the door to find Lydia on the other side. He can't hide his surprise because in theory, she knows where he lives but she's never come to his loft before. His first thought is Stiles, if he's alright and he almost asks her but something stops him.

"I thought I'd come see the infamous loft."

She doesn't wait for him to invite her in, instead he's left standing in the doorway as she struts into the loft with her heels clicking loudly on the floor.

"Hmmm, this is alright."

He closes the door and turns around to find her looking at his dining table where Erica left a stupid outfit for the stupid party laid out on the chair.

"You're going to the party tonight."

He doesn't see what she's got to do with him going to the party but she's looking at him expectantly and he finds himself nodding.

"Alone?"

That gets him curious, she and Stiles are best friends and all he's been able to think about since he woke up is Stiles moving on with someone else. And now Stiles’ best friend is here asking him if he’s going alone.

"Why do you ask?"

"Just making sure my friends don't get hurt."

He's known Laura long enough to recognise double-speak when he hears it. For a second, he's worried that Stiles has told her everything that happened between them but then he realises that Stiles is the last person who'd betray his trust like that.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, I see more than I ever let on and I think there's something you're not telling any of us. Not even Erica and the others."

He finds himself changing stance, the hair on the back of his neck stand up as if on cue. He feels like he's ready to run but before he can even blink, Lydia raises up a small hand in a placating manner,

"I don't want to know and I'm not here to pry."

"Then, why are you here?"

"For Stiles."

"Excuse me?"

Lydia makes a motion toward his sofa and waits for his nod before sitting down. He feels uncomfortable to say the least but because she's Stiles' and Erica's friend, he decides to give her a chance.

"He's coming to the party with someone he recently met. He hasn't told me explicitly but I think I'm right in assuming that both of you are interested in each other. Given that he--"

"Stop."

She raises a single eyebrow at him.

"You said you didn't want to pry."

"I don't."

"That's exactly what you're doing by coming here."

"I'm not asking you what's in your past and I'm most certainly not explaining away Stiles' decisions. What I _am_ doing is making sure my friends don't make stupid decisions without realising how stupid they're being."

"What do you mean?"

"You've obviously been hurt, Derek. And relax, no one has told me anything but I do have eyes and I can see. I know, better than most, that life is cruel and some wounds take longer than others to heal. If you're not ready to be with someone, I'll never push you."

He leans against the wall and gives her words a thought. For an 18 year old, she sounds very mature but then again Lydia Martin is nothing if not too smart for her age.

"But if that _is_ the case, I need you to do something."

"What's that?"

"I need you to make sure Stiles knows."

She's staring at him with an unwavering gaze, Lydia is going to rule the world someday, Derek is sure of it.

"Knows what?"

He already knows the answer to that one.

"That you are never going to reciprocate his feelings."

He feels that familiar burn in his gut, the one that reminds him how much he deserves to be hurt in life. How much he doesn't deserve love, and especially from someone like Stiles.

"He knows."

"I don't think he does."

"Why do you think that? I told him clearly--"

"Have you met Stiles? He hears 'no' and thinks 'that's a solid maybe'. You need to push him away, Derek. For your sake and for his."

He nods at her dumbly, doesn't even fully understand what he's just agreed to. Lydia doesn't wait for him to speak, she gets up and walks toward the door silently. He stays where he is for a second, leaning against the wall, before going over to close the door behind her.

The first time Lydia Martin hugs him, it's a strange feeling. A few months ago, Derek would never have allowed someone he's known for a few months to even touch him. But right now, he needs comfort and she's the only source.

"I'll tell Stiles to make a stop here before the party."

And with that, she's gone. Derek can't bring himself to even sit down after she has left. He puts on his running shoes and locks the loft behind him. He's going to run, till he can't feel the burn anymore.

***

Lydia knocks on his door just as he's about to get ready for a shower. She casually mentions Derek and Stiles knows something is up.

"Lydia, what's--"

"I ran into Derek earlier."

Those two don't have anything in common except for Erica. And Stiles, but the point is that it's almost impossible that the two of them were in the same place at the same time so Derek could 'run into' Lydia.

"He mentioned that you've never been to his loft."

"And you have?"

"I have, actually."

He's shocked by that revelation because Derek is not the kind of person who'd welcome people into his personal space, and honestly it hurts a little that Lydia has seen his home when he hasn't.

"Oh."

"He asked me if I'd tell you to go over to his loft before the party."

That doesn't sound one bit like Derek, why would he want Stiles at his loft? Why today, before the party? And why would he tell Lydia to tell him that?

"I didn't realise you two were BFFs."

"Don't be rude, Stiles. I saw him and he asked me to pass on the message."

"Before the party?"

"Before the party."

"I don't want to be late to meet Be--"

"I think you should go."

There's something in her tone that makes him stop. He and Derek have been perfectly civil the last few weeks, nothing even hinted at awkwardness so Stiles has no clue what Derek wants to talk to him about. But if it's important to Derek, then Stiles will most certainly go.

"I'll go."

***  
For some reason, both his sisters want to talk to him at exactly the same time as his mother. He's been getting calls from both Cora and Laura but he's a mile out from the campus and he doesn't want to stop running. He's sure they'll understand, his muscles are begging for reprieve but he doesn't oblige and keeps going.

He's fresh out of the shower with wet hair, when he hears a loud knock on the door. Stiles. Wiping away stray drops of water off his neck, he pulls on a t-shirt and makes his way toward the door.

Stiles' hand is up in the air to knock again when Derek pulls open the door, they both stare at each other for a moment. Derek's not sure how to react when Stiles is about to enter the only place in his life that's untouched by the boy in front of him. So, he just steps aside and lets Stiles in with a murmured,

"Hey."

"Hey, uh--Lydia told me you wanted to see me."

"Yeah, I--how'd you find the loft?"

"I dropped Cora off that one time, remember?"

That's something Derek has been trying to forget but can't, Stiles looking up at him from the parking downstairs - that's something he's seen in his dreams countless times.

"Right."

"This is a nice place, very you."

"Is it?"

"Yeah, I can see you being comfortable here."

"It's strange you've never been up here."

"I know, right?"

Stiles' eyes roam around the room, Derek watches him watch the loft with keen interest. He moves around a little, his fingers touching the back of the sofa and then along the front wall while Derek just stands there with baited breath. A traitorous thought forms while he's watching Stiles in his home.

_He belongs here._

"So, uh--what'd you want to tell me?"

He can't.

Not now, not when Stiles is in his loft and maybe for the first time in years, Derek feels like he's home.

And it’s so unfair, so fucking unfair. He wants this so bad, if he just reaches out and takes, he can have this. Then why is there a voice in his brain telling him to stay away. He’s angry and vengeful, doesn’t want to just give up.

"Derek? Wait, why aren't you dressed yet? We have to get to the party soon."

"I'm not going."

Stiles stops drumming his fingers on the back of the sofa and stares at Derek.

"What?"

"I'm not going tonight."

"Oh. I thought I could get a ride with you, but--why aren't you going?"

"Don't feel well."

"Oh, you feel sick?"

"No, just tired."

"Okay, is that what you wanted to tell me?"

"Yeah."

They stare at each other in utter silence, Derek swears he can hear Stiles' heart racing in his chest from across the room.

"Okay well, I should get going."

"You in a hurry?"

As soon as he's said it, Derek can feel the air change in the room. Stiles stiffens and stands up straighter.

"I maybe told someone I'd be there."

He does not have control over his mouth when he asks, "Anyone I know?"

Inside his head, he can hear Laura calling him a masochist. This time, he can't deny it.

"No, it's Bellamy. I met him the other day. I'd have introduced you if you were coming, he's a nice--"

"Didn't you have a paper to write?"

He sees Stiles freeze out of the corner of his eye but he doesn't look at him. Instead, he pretends to check his phone.

"I uh--I won't write it till the deadline, like Lydia said, so might as well go."

"Right."

Stiles starts walking with his hand pointed toward the loft door, "I really should go while there's still a party to--"

He's not sure what possesses him to step in front of Stiles, but the next thing Derek knows he's standing in Stiles' way, phone long forgotten.

"I'm sure Bellamy will still be there."

Stiles look as shocked as Derek feels right now. His eyes are wide and his mouth is open wider, and this close Derek has to make a conscious effort not to lean in and kiss him.

"What's going on, is everything alright?"

There's concern in Stiles' eyes, seas and oceans of concern and Derek feels like a dick for worrying him.

"Why wouldn't it be? I'm sure Bellamy can wait a little longer."

Stiles's face shifts as soon as Derek says that, there's a flash of understanding in his eyes and Derek is afraid of whatever's going to be said next.

"Honestly, you sound a little jealous."

Stiles stands tall in front of him, waiting for him to answer and all Derek can do is shrug.

"Don't know what you mean."

"Derek, do _you_ not want to go to the party or do you not want _me_ to go to the party?"

As much as he won't admit it ever, he could kill this Bellamy right about now. He can't stand the thought of Stiles going to meet someone at the party, let alone Stiles being with someone else. But that's brutal honesty, and Derek doesn't make a habit of being brutally honest about things that could potentially destroy him.

"No one's stopping you."

"Fine. You know what, have it your way. Bellamy's waiting."

Stiles starts to move toward the door and before Derek even knows what he's doing, he lifts a hand to Stiles' chest and pushes him back. Stiles stumbles back a little before regaining his balance, his eyes are trained on Derek waiting for an explanation.

"You don't even know the guy."

That's his voice saying those words but he's not consciously aware of saying them.

Stiles draws in a deep breath before saying, "I'm about to."

Stiles makes a move to walk away again and Derek needs to stop him, he needs to -- his hand wraps around the back of Stiles' neck as he pulls him closer and crashes his mouth against Stiles'. Neither of them moves for a second, their mouths are connected and no one is breathing or moving.

Derek can't take it anymore, he brushes his lips against Stiles' roughly, wants to taste Stiles so badly and just as he's about to pull back afraid that he's crossed a line, Stiles' hand curls around his neck and his lips push back against Derek's harshly. God, he's in heaven.

Stiles' body leans in and settles against Derek's, their lips are moving against each other's in haste and Derek's knees almost give in when he feels Stiles' teeth against his lips. Stiles teases Derek's lower lip with his sharp teeth before he bites down and Derek's pretty sure he tastes blood but all he can do right then is push his tongue into Stiles' mouth. The sound that Stiles makes as Derek's tongue roughly enters his mouth is purely sinful, Derek moves Stiles a little to pin him against the wall.

And that's it, that's game over for Derek. This way, he can feel Stiles against him from head to toe, his chest heaving against Derek's and his mouth moving roughly against his, and Derek pushes a thigh in between Stiles' legs and finds him hard. Stiles moans with Derek's tongue in his mouth and Derek almost comes right then.

His hands run down Stiles' chest and rip open his shirt without preamble, Stiles' hands settle on Derek's waist to lift up his t-shirt and he clenches them so hard around his hips when his shirt own rips open that there will be marks of his fingers on Derek's skin tomorrow. That makes him push harder against Stiles, both of them break apart and gasp at the touch of skin on skin. Derek pushes his mouth against Stiles' again, god he tastes so sweet and so--innocent.

Derek pulls back with a gasp, he can't do this.

Stiles' eyes snap open as he tries to chase Derek's mouth. Panic is evident on his face, as he looks at Derek with pleading eyes.

"Der--"

"I shouldn't have done this, I shouldn't hav--"

"Derek, stop, please don--"

"No, I can't do this. You have to go, you have--"

"Don't do this, Der."

"I told you I can't do this, Stiles."

"Do what, kiss me? Because you were doing a great job just now."

"That's not what I mean."

"Then, what? I know you're attracted to me and I am to yo--"

"No."

"What?"

"I'm not attracted to you."

Stiles snaps his mouth shut, and Derek knows he's hurt the boy.

"You hate lying."

That's all Stiles says. He turns away from Derek and buttons up his shirt before walking to the loft door and leaving without another word.

Derek stands there panting, trying to understand just how he has managed to fuck this up so bad.

***

Lydia waves him over the second he steps through the door at the party. He's walked over from Derek's loft, god knows how he made it without walking in front of a car or something.

Derek's loft.

That's where he kissed Derek. That’s where Derek pushed him away once again.

She comes over and places a hand on his shoulder, it’s too gentle a touch for it to not be comforting. That’s when he realizes, _she knows_. She’s the one who sent him to Derek’s loft.

“You alright?”

He juts his chin out defiantly even though all he wants is to lie down and curl into himself, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Her eyes dart across his face, curiosity clear in them but Stiles doesn’t give her the satisfaction, not today.

“I think I see Bellamy, I’m gonna grab a beer and go talk to him.”

He doesn’t wait around to hear her response, and pushes past the sea of bodies in the hall to walk toward the corner where the bar is set up. He can feel Derek’s lips on his own, still, rough stubble rubbing against his cheeks and no, he doesn’t want this to be another sad night spent wondering why he’s not enough so he downs a shot and grabs two beers to go find Bellamy.

The guy’s standing in a corner, his eyes absently darting across the room - much like Stiles is usually at a party. His face lights up when he sees Stiles approaching, and Stiles has to tamp down on the guilt of thinking about Derek while this nice guy came to a party just for him.

And that’s when he decides that he’s going to get plastered and forget about _fucking Derek_ , at least for tonight.

It works extremely well, as far as Stiles’ plans go. Bellamy is funny and his eyes only get more beautiful as Stiles’ get drunker and drunker. They end up in the backyard and Stiles shakes his head to get rid of that stupid voice in his head going, _You went to the garden with him, laid down and talked for hours, are you sure you’re not just looking to replace him?_

But Bellamy pulls him out of his thoughts, he starts telling Stiles about the space program he’s training for and how he’s going to be on an ark next year for a space mission. And Stiles forgets about Derek for the longest time in the last few months.

Just before parting, Bellamy kisses his cheek politely but somehow they end up making out in front of Stiles’ building. Bellamy tells him they’re both too drunk to do anything else and gently nudges Stiles into the building since he can’t even keep himself upright.

He’s face down in the bed as Bellamy takes off his shoes and socks, and Stiles feels a wave of loneliness crash through him. He reaches back to find Bellamy’s wrist and pleads, “Stay.”

Bellamy stays, for that night and for good. Stiles finally has a boyfriend.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am dying to hear what you guys think, please appease me.


	16. It's true that if I'm dreaming, then I'm dreaming of you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Bellamy in this Bellamy Blake from The 100, I'm not sure how I forgot to mention that. Look him up, there's a monologue coming up that'll make way more sense if you know what he looks like. 
> 
> 2\. Here's a verse that I think summarizes what Derek is feeling right now:
> 
> 'Cuz time isn't healing,  
> Pretty sick of staring at my ceiling  
> And I, I can't help the way I feel about you  
> And I, I can't help the way I've fallen for you
> 
> \- Tom Felton (who I will always love as Draco Malfoy but holy shit, he sings like an angel from heaven and I don't even believe in god or heaven so that should be a testament to how much I love the guy)

Derek doesn’t leave the loft through the weekend.

He’s made a nest of blankets on his bed which is turned away from the door and pushed up against the french windows so he doesn’t keep staring at the sofa Stiles drummed his fingers against or the spot next to the coffee table where Stiles had stood, or the wall that he had pushed Stiles against.

He’s in his pyjamas, hadn’t bothered putting in his contacts after he’d taken them out for the shower and his Gryffindor sweatshirt is warm and cozy.

An errant thought keeps roaming around his in consciousness. He’s always the one left standing as people walk away from him.

Cora. Erica. Stiles.

He’s always left behind.

_Maybe because you drive people mad? Maybe because talking to you feels like talking to a wall?_

He disregards the little voice in his head and unpauses Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. He’s binge-watched four of the films in less than a day and he regrets nothing. Harry Potter has always been his go-to world, his comfort blanket.

Laura makes fun of him, but he’s never been ashamed of going to the Children’s Fantasy section in a library to find the books and sign them out from skeptical looking librarians.

He had gotten several calls from Erica last night asking him where he was since he’d forgotten to tell her he wasn’t coming anymore. And that had been a shit-show because she was drunk on the phone and looking straight at Stiles chatting to some guy and wanted to know why Derek wouldn’t just tell him.

Instead of getting angry though, this time she was just sad for him. He understood but he also couldn’t offer her anything more than a meek ‘I’m fine’.

He’d started watching The Sorcerer’s Stone at some point last night but her text had interrupted him.

_**2:27 AM from Erica:** Stiles is going home with him._

He’d felt like a dagger was thrust through his chest and blood was pooling in his stomach but it was his own doing so he’d just turned off his phone and pressed play just as Snape sneered something unpleasant at Harry.

And now he’s five movies in, the sun is high in the sky and he checks the clock to see it’s almost three in the afternoon. He’s been at it for hours and he should try to rest but sleep doesn’t seem very appealing. He knows as soon as he closes his eyes, he’ll dream of Stiles.

So, he does what he does best. Gets lost in the film and ends up falling asleep on top of his laptop anyway.

***

Turns out, it’s not the best idea to hole up inside for an entire weekend watching Harry Potter.

Because the day he steps out, last Monday of the semester and his undergraduate degree, the world feels like it isn’t how he left it.

Arguably, he also doesn’t look like he had three days ago but that’s a result of coping mechanisms and understandable neglect. His stubble has never been this unkempt but he just didn’t feel like shaving and the coarse hair felt good under his fingers. He may also be wearing his glasses again and a jumper instead of the leather jacket he doesn’t feel like wearing anymore. Whatever.

None of this matters. What matters is that Stiles brings a guy with him to lunch. He avoids Derek’s eyes as he put his arm around said guy and introduces him to the group.

“Guys, this is Bellamy.”

He can feel Lydia staring at him. Probably wanting to thank him for doing as she asked, pushing Stiles away.

Erica, on the other hand, reaches over under the table and squeezes his thigh without looking away from Stiles and the newest member at their table.

“Nice to meet you, Bellamy. Although, I should warn you I’ve known Stiles since we were five and he is not the easiest person to be around--”

“Scott!”

Some light ribbing continues but Derek is checked out of the conversation. Jane Austen is calling his name so he opens the book to the earmarked page and tunes everything out.

Till he hears, “Oh that’s Derek. Sucks at communication so he hides behind books and lies, most of the time.”

He feels heat rising up his chest, onto his face as Stiles’ words register. And then he’s snapping his eyes up from the book to look at Stiles who doesn’t even do the courtesy of looking at him while insulting him.

It sits sourly in his stomach, the way Stiles says those words like he’s always thought this about Derek. And he doesn’t even get a chance to reply before Erica growls out, “What?”

Stiles doesn’t seem at all bothered by her tone, he very calmly looks away from the guy sitting next to him and turns to face Erica.

“You heard me.” He sounds like he’s talking about the weather, like it’s just an impersonal observation he has made. 

“Stiles--”

Derek finds himself stopping her with a hand on her shoulder, Stiles’ eyes zero in on his hand and he scoffs but doesn’t say anything. Derek can see the blatant disgust on his face.

_Maybe he deserves to be disgusted at you. Maybe you deserve it too._

Lydia breaks the silence with some story about Scott’s RA and conversation just floats on with caged looks and hesitant words. No one brings up Stiles’ weird comment.

***

And it happens again.

Apparently, Derek looks 3 seconds away from a nervous breakdown or so Erica says. He’s not sure how he looks, hasn’t looked at himself in a mirror in quite some time.

His thesis supervisor had emailed him this morning to say things looked good and that she’d begin marking his paper by the end of the week. That actually felt like a physical weight has been lifted off his shoulders but he’s got other things to worry about so he hasn’t been going to lunch in the cafeteria with the others.

It has nothing to do with Stiles and his boyfriend. Derek is absolutely fine with Stiles dating someone else and bringing them around to hang out with their common friends and someone else touching Stiles and kissing Stiles, tracing those moles in idle moments. Nothing to do with how someone else has the right to hold Stiles, to just be around Stiles because he can make a winter's day feel like the summer and--

“We’re taking a break and that’s that.”

“I don’t need a break.”

“Tell that to your face.”

He just stares at her because his tolerance level is really not what it used to be. She sighs and looks away. 

“You look like you haven’t slept in days.” 

“It’s the final week of my undergraduate degree.” He’s sure sarcasm is literally dripping from his face, but Erica just rolls her eyes and continues.

“But you’ve finished your thesis.”

“Contrary to popular belief, a thesis in not everything. I do have four other courses, you know.”

She snaps her mouth shut at that.

Except, he somehow gets roped into going to lunch to make plans for another potential road trip at the weekend. He has absolutely no say in this, it seems because he was basically dragged to the cafeteria where everyone is already waiting.

“Derek, can I just point out that while I’m not a fan of facial hair at all, you’re really making me question certain things?”

He hasn’t even sat down yet and Allison’s admission makes him freeze mid-crouch. She hardly ever says a lot in the group setting, only ever initiates conversation when it’s just Derek listening, and that’s why he is surprised by her admission in front of everyone.

He’s still trying to process and respond in an appropriate way when Lydia picks up her glass of coke and whispers, “Hear, hear!”

It’s not the first time he has felt uncomfortable because of how others look at him, he knows he’s in good shape and works a lot at maintaining said shape but sometimes he wonders if the physical is all that matters and if that’s all people will ever see in him.

“Uh…”

“Sorry, if I made you uncomfortable.”

He shifts a bit in his seat and shoots Allison a quick smile. She’d never make him feel uncomfortable on purpose, he knows. Neither would Lydia, for that matter, but his dynamic with her is a lot different than with Allison. For one thing, they can see right through each other’s bullshit.

“You’re uncomfortable?" Lydia sounds every bit as surprised as she looks at him with a straight face. He has no clue how to respond to that so he just finds himself shrugging.

“Why? I mean, I’m sure Allison wasn’t trying to objectify you or anything and neither was I. Merely pointing out that your facial hair is a thing of beauty.”

He knows that’s her way of saying she didn’t mean to make him uncomfortable plus words of praise from Lydia Martin do have a certain placating effect.

“Thanks, I grew it myself.”

And that gets her to roll her eyes at him like she’s embarrassed she even knows Derek. He actually feels a lot lighter at the end of that conversation.

“So, what’s the plan for the weekend?”

Stiles is carefully avoiding Derek, if he didn’t know better Derek would say he’s going out of his way to appear nonchalant. 

“Actually Lydia, I have a few fourth year courses so I can’t--”

Erica doesn’t even let him finish and just starts talking about how she’d love to go ice-skating at the big rink they have across town. He just sighs and sits back as Jackson starts talking about some fancy restaurant he’d rather go to. Then, at some point someone chips in about a good movie that’s playing so it just becomes a mess of everyone talking over everyone.

It’s scary how this feels normal to him now. A few months ago, he’d have cursed his head off at the loud bunch of brats in the cafeteria and stormed off. Now, they all turn to him to make the supreme decision.

He feels like a deer caught in headlights, looking at them warily.

“Well, Derek?”

“What?”

Lydia narrows her eyes like she’s asking herself why she associates with him. To be fair, he doesn’t know either.

“Plans? For this weekend?”, impatience clear in her voice.

“I don’t kn--”

Stiles cuts him off with a rushed, “Tell me you guys are not leaving this up to Mr. ‘I can’t make a decision to save my life’ over there?”

He feels it, the weight of every word settling heavily in his gut. 

Stiles is finally looking at him, staring at him, making him regret every time he has failed Stiles by not standing by his decision. He can’t say that Stiles is wrong, doesn’t want to.

Erica, however, has other plans.

“What the fuck is your problem, Stilinski?”

“I don’t have a problem with you, Erica.”

“Yeah, but you do with Derek.”

“Do I?”

He’s staring straight at Derek and the heat behind his eyes is blazing hatred. Derek almost feels himself burning.

He’s not even aware of his mouth moving around words.

“No, he doesn’t.”

“Dere--”

“Erica, drop it.”

And that’s the end of that. Erica is also pissed at him now, in addition to Stiles. And Derek refuses to go to another tension-filled lunch where Stiles is trying his best to shame him to death and Erica won’t stop making it worse.

***

To top it all off, Laura calls to say she’d be here on Sunday. And that Derek should go ahead and arrange a time with Stiles so the three of them can go to dinner together.

He’s not sure who’s more dangerous to talk to right now, Laura or Stiles. 

***

Stiles is walking toward the Science Building to do the monthly inventory of the lab. Erica had texted him earlier today to finish the inventory by the end of the week. He figured he might as well get it over with when he knows Derek won't be in the lab, he has an evening class at this time.

Just as he takes off his gloves to pull out his earphones, he sees a figure on the ground in the street across from the main door of the building. He stops with his hand on the handle, his fingers are freezing in the cold but he can't bring himself to ignore the figure lying on the ground.

Instead, he steps away from the building and starts walking toward the person with careful steps. He can't see anyone else walking by but then again it is 3 pm on a Friday so why would anyone hang around the campus. Just as Stiles is about to step back and dial campus security, his eyes fall on a bag lying beside the person - it's Derek's.

Stiles is still far enough from the figure lying with its back to Stiles that he can't tell for sure if it is Derek but now that he has seen the bag, his feet run toward the figure involuntarily and yeah, that's--

"Derek!"

Stiles slides down on the freezing ground beside Derek and pulls his body closer. Derek is unconscious and his head lolls into Stiles' lap and that more than anything else scares him - seeing Derek so vulnerable.

"Hey, hey! Derek, wake up!"

Even as he's slapping Derek, there's no movement and Stiles is definitely losing his shit. What's wrong with Derek, why won't he wake up, what's--blood. There's blood in Derek's hair.

"Fucking fuck fuck fuck, shit. Okay, we have to stay calm, Stiles. Right, call Boyd."

He takes out his phone with trembling fingers, Derek's blood is sticking to his skin and he wants to scrub it off right now but helping Derek is more important.

"Boyd! It's Derek-- it's--I need your help, I'm outside the Science Building and I--"

"Stiles? Why're you panting so bad? Is ever--"

"I need you here now, Boyd. Derek is unconscious and bleeding, I need you."

"Give me one minute."

Boyd hangs up immediately, Stiles wants to call him back and beg him to keep talking to him, just keep uttering nonsense because he hates the silence right now. He just wants someone to tell him Derek will be alright.

"What have you done, Derek? What have you done?"

No answer. His fingers are definitely freezing right now, unlike those scenes in the movies when the hero is fighting or is in shock and doesn't feel the cold anymore because he's numb. Stiles is absolutely freezing right now, he wants to run inside the building to find warmth but Derek lying here in the middle of the street keeps him frozen in place. Literally.

Boyd comes running in less than five minutes, Isaac and Scott behind him. Stiles can't find words to answer them when they ask what happened. All he can do is stare at them as if he doesn't understand what language they're speaking.

"Stiles??!"

He looks up to find Scott's face almost touching his, Scott's brown eyes are brimming with concern as he pulls Stiles away from Derek while Boyd checks Derek over for any injuries.

"He's not bleeding right now, blood's almost dried." he announces but Stiles is still as worried as he was five minutes ago.

"He's really cold, but I can't see any other injuries so I'd suggest getting him inside first. Stiles, your room is the closest so we'll take him there. Scott, Isaac, help me carry him."

Stiles just stands there dumbfounded till Boyd puts a hand on his shoulder, "He'll be fine, let's hurry."

Halfway through, Derek gains consciousness and looks around bewildered. He takes a minute to fully gain his senses but once he does, he tells Isaac and Scott that he can walk on his own. Stiles wants to punch him unconscious just so he can make sure that someone carries him and he doesn't hurt himself trying to walk, but he stays quiet.

"I'm fine, I'll just go home--"

Thankfully, Boyd cuts in before Stiles can speak, "We're walking to Stiles' and then I'm checking to make sure you're not hurt internally."

And that's that, no one argues with Boyd. They walk around Derek and make sure he doesn't fall or isn't hurting anywhere. Isaac takes a quick second to text Erica and by the time they make it to his room, everyone is waiting in the hallway. Derek hesitates before going in, Stiles can take a pretty good guess about why he's hesitant to enter Stiles' room.

Erica almost runs across the hall to meet them halfway, "Derek! Oh thank god, you're fine. Come on, let's get you inside."

Derek nods at her and follows her in quietly. Stiles quickly clears the bed and makes space for Derek to sit down. Everyone crowds around the tiny dorm room as Boyd asks him what date it is and looks over his body to make sure he isn't hurt anywhere other than his head.

"Well, you're not hurt as far as I can tell, neither are you concussed. I'd still suggest going to the ER though, make sure there isn't any internal bleeding or anything."

"I'm fine, I don't need a doctor."

Pretty much everyone around the room makes some sort of disagreeing noise but no one says it outright. Stiles is seconds away from ending his silence and yelling at Derek or punching him, whatever comes first.

"Stiles, could you get him some water while I take his pulse?"

He silently walks toward the little fridge he has in his room, as Boyd announces that Derek is absolutely fine which Stiles absolutely does not agree with. When he turns back from fetching a water bottle, Derek is making a move to stand up and Stiles absolutely loses his shit, "Where do you think you're going?"

"I feel fine, I can walk--"

"I just found you unconscious in a street so why don't you stop acting like you are Captain America and sit the hell down and drink your fucking water, okay?”

He can feel everyone staring at him but none of that matters right now. All that matters is that Derek stays where he is because he's hurt and that he understands that whatever happened between them is insignificant right now.

"I'm fine--"

"Sit the fuck down, Derek!"

No one says anything after that. Derek silently sips from his bottle of water while Stiles looks around for his first-aid kit. The others linger awkwardly with nothing to say.

"Stiles, if Derek is fine, I can walk with him to his loft."

He can see that Erica is trying to negotiate between Derek and he but that only angers him more, how the fuck did they get to the point where they need a third person to communicate?

"He's staying."

Stiles feels eyes on him, but the only person he's watching is Derek who is staring back at Stiles with his jaw clenched.

" _He_ is right here."

"Oh yeah? Does _he_ wanna tell me what happened, then?"

Derek just shakes his head and looks away, everyone else is quietly waiting for the radio silence to become less awkward. Erica is whispering something to Boyd who nods his head but doesn't say anything.

"Derek, I think it's good that you stay here for--"

"I am fine, I can walk. I don't see why I--"

"How about you stay where you are before I call your sister about what happened?"

He knows he has crossed a line, and Derek is pissed at him because he's doing that flared nose thing he does.

"And how about you worry about yourself?"

That's it, Stiles is going to punch Derek if he doesn't get his ass out of his head. And he's about to say as much when someone knocks on the door. He can tell everyone is surprised because anyone who'd ever knock on Stiles' door is already in the room. Lydia steps forward and opens the door to find Bellamy on the other side.

"Bellamy, hey! Come on in."

Bellamy looks around the room surprised before his eyes settle on Stiles. He's asking Stiles what's happening. Before Stiles can even blink at him, Derek is getting off his bed,

"Which part of 'sit the fuck down' did you not get?"

Derek doesn't stop walking even as he stumbles over Stiles' cushion on the floor. It's a testament to how shocked everyone is at the situation that no one moves to help Derek, Stiles flinches in place but he's pissed enough that he doesn't step ahead to help Derek either.

Just as he reaches the door, Derek nods at Stiles and murmurs, "You have other things to do, Stiles. I'll be fine at the loft."

It makes him want to punch Derek.

Derek is just stepping out as Bellamy walks to stand by Stiles and puts a hand on his shoulder, "Stiles, what's--"

"I'll tell you in a bit, Bell."

Bellamy just nods at him. Derek turns around a second before shutting the door behind him. His eyes find Stiles' just as the door closes between them. Stiles is not sure what's said between their eyes, all he knows is that he's sad.

***

Bellamy is as understanding as ever when Stiles begs him to postpone their movie plan to the next day. He feels super guilty about cancelling plans but Bellamy waves it off,

“You found your friend unconscious in the street, Stiles. I think the movie can wait.”

“I know but we’ve been so excited about seeing it and--”

“You really wanna see it today?”

That’s the thing, Bellamy isn’t too nice like everyone says, he just takes into account everything that’s happening around him and he always offers Stiles a choice. Which is very different from how the group usually treats Stiles - as a given.

Bellamy actually asks him what he wants, and it’s the offer of a decision that makes Stiles want to be around Bellamy, to lean on him whenever he feels like he needs someone.

“No, I wanna stay home.”

“Then, let’s do that.”

“Are you sure you don’t wanna go see it today?”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?”

His eyebrows are knitted together in a frown and he’d be intimidating if Stiles hadn’t gotten a text from Octavia with a photo of Bellamy’s head photoshopped on a kangaroo’s body just this morning.

“No, I just feel bad for cancelling the movie plan, I know how much you hate getting your movies spoiled.”

“Well, if I just stay inside and keep my eyes and ears closed, I’m sure no one will spoil it for me.”

“You wanna have a sleep-over? I mean you’re already here.”

“Are you suggesting that I skip training today?”

“I am.”

“Okay.”

And that’s how they end up lying face down on the bed next to each other, in pure silence. Stiles can’t help but get lost in Bellamy’s eyes, he still hasn’t had the courage to ask him why his eyes seem like they’ve seen too much of the world already. He knows that some things are just too painful to talk about, so he contents himself by looking.

It annoys Stiles when people say brown eyes are boring, his own are apparently ‘amber’ and not brown and therefore interesting. But it really bothers him when people wax poetic about blue eyes being like a stormy ocean or green eyes like a forest and then brown eyes being described as brown.

He can’t wrap his head around how anyone can look Bellamy in the eye and not feel unravelled in the most intimate way possible. How anyone can look away from his eyes and not have their entire existence shaken up, every cell in their body lit on fire and then soothed with the softest touch. Stiles can see his own trivial life reflected in those eyes, and yet when Bellamy looks at him, he can’t even describe the rush of power that surges through him when he feels those eyes on him.

And that’s just when Bellamy looks at you. When he smiles, and his eyes crinkle in that way, Stiles can’t even look anymore. He has to steal his eyes and look away because how can he bring himself to look at something so beautiful without feeling like he’s not worthy. Bellamy smiles with his full face, dimples etched deep into his cheeks and he looks down at the ground but Stiles always catches his eyes for a moment before he looks away and it always feels like a lifetime wrapped up in a moment.

And when he’s angry, his eyes turn dark, almost black. Stiles has seen it happen, has seen those eyes turn cold and dark and he still remembers the chill that ran down his spine when he caught sight of almost black eyes like that of a demon. A predator.

But it’s nothing compared to the way Bellamy’s eyes become a mirror to a tortured soul when he’s sad, though. Stiles has only ever seen him like that once, when he mentioned something about his mother and how he’s always been the one to take care of Octavia. Stiles could see a world of hurt in his eyes then, and it reminded him of his mother when she used to look at her son not knowing which time was going to be the last.

So yes, Stiles can never understand how people can only think of Bellamy’s eyes as brown.

“You have beautiful eyes.”

Bellamy snorts at his admission, ruining the moment Stiles thought they were having.

“No, I have _brown_ eyes. You, on the other hand, have perfect eyes.”

“Bell, if you could hear the inner monologue I just had about your eyes, you’d agree.”

“Sure.”

“I’m serious, I can’t believe no one’s ever told you this.”

“I haven’t given anyone a chance to.”

“Then I’m glad you gave me a chance. I mean I know we don’t spend a lot of time together but you just being here, next to me, it makes me feel invincible.”

“It does?”

Bellamy looks surprised, and Stiles makes a decision then. Bellamy needs to know what he’s done for Stiles, what he’s been to Stiles.

“Yeah. I’ve never been with anyone but I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have felt this way with anyone else.”

_Are you sure, Stiles?_

He ignores the stupid voice in his head, that way lies madness.

“Well, I can tell you that the one relationship I had was nowhere close to this." He takes Stiles' hand in his and just holds on, doesn't try to squeeze or move or anything, he just holds on. And Stiles feels calmness settling into his bones, like he usually feels when Bellamy is around. There are no storms brewing inside him, no volcanoes ready to explode when he's with Bellamy. It's just utter peace. And that's why he feels comfortable enough in saying what he says next.

“I’ve never told anyone about my mom, I mean everyone knows that she’s gone but I’ve never had the courage to talk to anyone about her. Even my dad, he started drinking after she died and the only time it was okay to talk about her was when he was blind drunk.”

“Stiles, you don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to.”

“No, I want to. For the first time in seven years, I want to.”

“Okay.”

He’s trying to find his words, but it’s not an awkward silence. Bellamy doesn’t try to fill it, he just pulls Stiles a little closer and waits.

“It was frontotemporal dementia. She was diagnosed when I was eight and the doctors told her she had two years. She didn’t tell anyone what was happening, not even my dad. She pretended for a year and a half, day in and day out, she pretended. We had no idea, I used to get angry at her sometimes when she’d stop playing because she was tried. I used to yell at her and run away.”

Tears are falling down his face but he can’t bring himself to wipe them away. He has never said these things out loud, the admission feels alien on his tongue and yet scarily intimate. Bellamy is silent next to him, but his warmth speaks volumes.

“One day after school, I came home to find her on the floor. She lied to me and told me she was sleeping, I was just a kid. I never thought anything of it till after she was gone. That was a year before my father realised what was happening and forced her to go to a doctor. They said if she’d come earlier, if she--if--”

Bellamy sits up against the headboard and pulls Stiles closer, along his back he can feel Bellamy’s heart beating. When he looks down, he sees Bell’s hands holding his own in his lap. This is something no has offered him before, this absolute freedom to let go.

All his friends are great - except Jackson - and they care about him but he’s never felt like he can break down the walls he has built around himself and it wouldn’t be so bad. Hasn’t felt this way since he was a nine-year old walking through the grocery store holding his mother’s hand. With a sigh, he leans his head back and rests it against Bellamy’s shoulder.

Absolute comfort, that’s what Bellamy offers him. A freedom to say anything he wants to say, without the fear that it will come back to bite him in the ass.

“They said if she’d come earlier and started chemo, she’d have lived another few years. So yeah, if I’d realised that she wasn’t sleeping on the floor that day and told my dad, she might’ve been with us a few more years.”

He feels tentacles of guilt overcoming him, these are things he has kept to himself for a reason. Stewing in the guilt, burning in the pain, it’s been his one secret pass-time.

“Did she want that?”

Bellamy whispers softly next to his ear, like he’s afraid he’ll scare Stiles away.

“What?”

“Your mom, did she want chemo?”

All he can do is shake his head, can’t even bring himself to say the words.

“Then would you have forced her? If you’d found out earlier?”

This is not something he hasn’t thought about before. Those late nights lying in his bed at home with his dad down the hall snoring after hours of drinking and quietly sobbing in his room, those nights Stiles thought about this exact thing.

“I’d have given anything to see her for one more day.”

“Stiles, have you ever wondered why she didn’t tell you all that time?”

“Probably didn’t want to worry us, I’d still have rather known that I was losing my mother _every second._ ”

“Maybe she didn’t want the chemo because she didn’t want you to see her like that, to remember her like that.”

Bellamy’s voice has gotten super quiet, his words sound like he’s rehearsed them. Stiles finds himself turning his face to look at Bellamy, he finds sadness there.

“Bell?”

“My mom, she uh--she got caught up in some government mess trying to raise two kids on her own, back when the space missions were starting up the people living on the base couldn’t have more than one kid so Octavia wasn’t in the system. My mom hid her for years but when they found out, they wanted to take her away.

She had a choice too, she could either give up Octavia or she had to go on one of the first space missions for exploration, it was a suicide mission. She chose to go but she made them give her two more weeks with us. We didn’t know what was happening, I was twelve at the time.”

He has no idea what to say, now he knows why Bellamy’s eyes look like they’ve seen too much. Bellamy clears his throat before continuing,

“Octavia still doesn’t know what happened, I told her mom decided to go on that space mission and that I encouraged her. I don’t know how--how to tell her that mom signed up for a suicide mission to _protect her_. I’ve been raising Octavia since I was six, and she’s all I have. Some days I wonder what it would be like if she came back, if I ever see her again but it’s been eight years so I don’t think it’s going to happen.”

"How did you--did you find out after she was gone?"

"Yeah, she told me she was going away for a while but after she left I found out about the whole thing with Octavia. Didn't have the heart to tell her, she was just a child."

"You were a child too, Bell."

"I grew up the day Octavia was born. Mom knew I could take care of her, that's why she left without saying anything. Some days I wonder if she didn't want me to remember her for what she did for Octavia but like she was with us. Remember her for buying us books about space, and for making pancakes whenever we asked. On those days, I forgive her for not telling me."

It's the first time Stiles has seen Bellamy with tears in his eyes, but he knows him enough to not say it out loud and just hold on a bit tighter.

"I've never told anyone about my mom, Bell. Not even Cora, I just--I could never bring myself to talk about her. With you, I--you remind me of her in some ways."

"I do?" He can hear disbelief and a bit of worry in Bellamy's words.

"Well, not in a creepy way but like, she had beautiful eyes too. I remember looking up at her as a kid and thinking, god she's beautiful. And that's what I thought that day you fell on top of me, your eyes were just--I felt myself falling."

"Wow, you could be a poet, Stiles."

There's a soft dusting of red on Bellamy's cheeks, like he's embarrassed by what Stiles has just said. Or maybe he's blushing.

"It's all true. You are as beautiful as I thought that first time. Of course, then I didn't know that you are even more beautiful than you look. I can't--"

"Please stop."

Bell turns away from him, he lies down on his side facing away from Stiles as if that'll stop him from finishing his train of thought.

"No seriously, I never thought I'd talk about my mom with anyone but I didn't even hesitate before sharing it with you. I'm just so glad that you're here. I don't know about eternal love and happiness, Bell, I don't know if it exists but I think I'll remember this day and I think I'll be grateful to you for a long time."

"And I will be to you, I know there are a few self-esteem issues here, Stiles, and I don't mention it cuz I know it'll make you uncomfortable but you have to know. _You have to know that you're amazing_ , in every fucking way. I've never told anyone about my mom, not even Octavia but here we are. So yeah, whatever happens, I'm glad we have each other right now."

It may not be the most romantic thing but Stiles has seen relationships where saying 'I love you' is a competition and sex is the most frequent contact between people. He's been hurt by Derek countless times in the past few weeks, so he'll gladly take this warmth and comfort Bellamy gives him over any of that.

"I think we should get to sleep now, I'm pretty sure I just saw the sun outside."

"Damnit, I thought I'd be having a long night's sleep tonight."

He settles in close to Bell, waits for his breaths to even out and then falls asleep before he can even finish thinking whatever his latest thought is.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this photo is referenced in this chapter: https://pbs.twimg.com/media/B9rh6zMCYAExpdJ.jpg:large
> 
> Okay, before we launch into what a dick Stiles has been in this, let's take a deep breath and remember that he's been on the receiving end of Derek's pushing and pulling multiple times and there's only so many times a person can take the whole hot-and-cold routine. Alright, now shoot! 
> 
> PS - I turned 22 at the exact minute I uploaded this chapter. Because, you know, what else does one do at midnight on one's birthday but upload gay fanfiction?


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